


Fight From The Inside

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 50 percent not Tim Staffell Friendly, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Deacy isn't really a shy boy, Deal With It, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fighting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More Tags Will Be Added As Story Goes On, Non-Alcohol Related Blackouts, PTSD blackouts, Partially Closeted Character, Period-Typical Homophobia, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self destruction, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn, Smoking, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma related blackouts, actually it's 100 percent not Tim Staffell friendly, but probably included things from the wrong year, consensual casual touching, its difficult to explain, kicking homophobic ass, oh well, playful roughhousing, random consensual kissing, sad roger, self-destructive thoughts, set between 1970 and 1973
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2020-04-22 22:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 109,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19138318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Roger is trapped between a physically abusive father at home, and an emotionally abusive roommate at Brian's place. His friend wants him to move in with him, but the drummer is hesitant. He can feel his depression and fear getting worse every day, and just wants a way out where he can finally feel safe. Will Brian save him in time or is Roger past being saved?





	1. wake up call

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm aware that Roger probably didn't have this kind of home life (but who actually knows, right?) and that Tim Staffell probably wasn't like this (but again, who really knows?). This is work of fiction, from my own mind, and some of the ideas in this story are taken from my own personal experiences. 
> 
> Please comment if you like it because comments make me happy.
> 
> I'm still working on the one-shot collection Good Times, Bad Times, but I really wanted to write another full fledged fic.

**.    .    .**

“Wake up! Roger!” an angry voice bellowed in the room and the bedroom door slammed hard against the wall.

Roger woke up to an angry hand grabbing his am forcefully and throwing him out of his bed and onto the floor. He yelped in pain as his body hit the wooden floor, banging his elbow as he looked up at the older man that hovered threateningly over him. “What the hell?”

“Look at you, sleeping the whole damned day away! You should’ve been awake hours ago! Bloody deadbeat is what you are, son. You’re lazy and useless, being a lump in the house like you are…”

The words cut him mildly but they still dug deep. He swallowed hard as he forced himself up onto his feet before he started to get dressed. “Fine! I’m up, all right? I have class anyway!”

“Aye, good thing I woke you then, isn’t it? You would’ve missed it!” The other man shook his head, disappointment heavy in his eyes. “A boy your age, you should have your own place by now, shouldn’t you? How long are you planning on staying here, until you’re a granddad?”

Roger closed his hands into balled fists, his anger starting to rise as pulled his shirt on. “I don’t have any money or else I would leave. Trust me, Dad, no one wants out of here more than I do. I’m sick of living here with a sodding hypocrite!”

_SLAP!_

Roger grunted as he fell onto the floor with a resounding _thud!_ He could taste blood on his lips and looked up at the man he was unfortunate enough to call his father.

“You need to learn some lessons, Roger! One of them being never to badmouth your elders. The least I can do is teach you that while you’re living under my roof.” He turned and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Roger on the floor.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down but punched the floor with his palm once, twice, three times in frustration.

He needed to get the fuck out of here. He’d suffered his father’s hand since his mum had passed, and every day had been a living hell for the twenty-one year old man. He cleaned himself up before he walked down a ways and grabbed a cab, taking it to his college about forty-five minutes away to London.

He was so glad when he was able to get out and hurry inside to his first class; he couldn’t get out of his house soon enough. Roger was almost to the classroom, rushing through the near empty halls of the university when he ran into someone.

Books and papers went flying and the drummer was quick on his knees to help fix what he had done. “Shit, I’m sorry… I’m late to my class –"

“No, it was my fault,” the other man chuckled nervously as he collected his papers, handing Roger his books.

Roger looked up and felt his heart start to flutter inside his chest when he locked eyes with him. He swallowed hard before he took his books from him and slowly stood up. “R-Right… I mean, no! Not your fault… err… my fault.”

He watched as the dark haired man smiled politely. “Liam. Wilkins.” He held out a hand.

Roger quickly shook it, feeling butterflies flying around inside his stomach. “Roger Taylor. It’s been great bumping into you but I’m late for class.”

“What class are you late for, Roger?”

The blonde felt his palms start to sweat as he looked at Liam’s hazel eyes so he cleared his throat and tried to look away. “Err… Biology, with Mr. Jones, here…” he pointed to the door about a foot away from him.

Liam’s eyes brightened. “Oh yeah? Me too. Come on before we’re both late.”

Roger tried not to show his excitement as he nodded and followed the other man into the class and sat down in the desk next to him. During the entire class, he had to try to convince himself that he wasn’t sitting next to him because he wanted to admire Liam’s dark brown hair that reached just below his ears or anything.

He swallowed hard and forced himself to look back down at his own desk, taking a silent shaky breath. He was falling hard for this stranger he had literally just met. Anyway, he probably wasn’t even like _that,_ like Roger.

The thought made the drummer’s chest tighten and when the class ended, he rushed out of the room quickly, deciding to skip his last class of the evening and opted to take a cab over to Imperial College, where he knew his somewhat recent friend attended classes at.

The marks on his arm from where his father had gripped him earlier were now a dark blue color in the shape of his thick fingers. He felt sick, but he knew he had done it to himself. Not literally, of course, but if he had set his alarm, he wouldn’t have overslept.

Roger got out of the cab and walked into the college where he knew Brian would be in the library, most likely sleeping. When he saw the older man lounging in an overstuffed armchair with a book on his lap, he smirked to himself and gently kicked the guitarist’s shoe.

“Hmm?” Brian May looked somewhat startled but relaxed when he saw Roger and smiled sleepily as he rubbed his eyes. “Oh, hey. Wait, don’t you have a class right now?” He glanced at his watch.

Roger shrugged. “I’m ditching. Want to hang out?”

Brian stood up and stretched and then his eyes knitted in concern on Roger’s freshly cut lip. “Get into a fight?”

“Hm?” Roger realized what the other man was looking at and shook his head, slightly withdrawing into himself. “No… it’s fine. It’s nothing. Are you ready or not?”

“I’m ready, what do you want to do?”

Roger had been waiting all day for this and felt foolish for asking. “C-Can we go back to your flat?” If Brian said no, then Roger would sleep on a park bench that night; he wasn’t going to go back home, not yet.

“Yeah, sure…” Brian nodded, motioning for Roger to lead them out. “How was your class?”

Roger shrugged and then smiled to himself, thinking about Liam. “It was… good. I… umm… I made a new friend. He’s cool.”

The older man looked at him suggestively. “Oh yeah? Just cool?”

They had only been friends for a couple months, but Brian already knew the ways Roger swung. He had found out the most interesting way when he had seen Roger bring home a woman one night, and then a guy another night. He had been so embarrassed at being caught with a guy, unsure at the time how Brian would react to it, but to his surprise, the other man seemed perfectly all right with it.

Roger bit his lip but flinched, having temporarily forgotten. “Really cool. Cute.”

“So? Going to make your move?”

The thought of this made Roger’s chest ache again and he shook his head, the two of them walking out of the college out to Brian’s van and getting in.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think he’s like that, you know? I don’t to make an absolute fool of myself if he isn’t, and risk him completely freaking out.” Roger sighed and pulled out a cigarette before placing it between his lips and lighting it.

“What happened here, Rog?” Brian suddenly asked as Roger’s arms came up. He switched between looking at the road to the drummer’s bruised arm. “From the same fight as your lip?”

“I told you I didn’t get into a fight!” Roger growled in irritation, taking a drag. “It’s nothing! Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”

Brian was quiet the rest of the drive home but kept looking at it every few minutes. When they got back to his flat, Roger got out of the van and waited for his friend to unlock the door before he practically raced inside.

He wasn’t sure why he was feeling so anxious. His father didn’t even know about Brian; he wouldn’t be outside watching him. Roger felt paranoid though, regardless. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt _safer_ inside Brian’s place.

He watched as the guitarist walked inside, locking the door behind him before he looked over at Roger with worrying eyes. “Are you hungry? I can make us something.”

Roger nodded a bit shyly. “Yeah, that sounds good. I’m starving. Umm… is Tim here?”

Brian nodded and pointed down the hall. “In his room, probably working on songs. Don’t worry, he won’t be out for at least another hour or so.”

The drummer nodded and sat down at the table before he lit up another cigarette to calm his nerves. Tim Staffell was the lead singer and bass player of their band Smile, and he was the weirdest person Roger had ever met. Tim spoke his opinions about gay people pretty bluntly, which made him a total arsehole, but when he wasn’t talking shit about them, he was actually fairly nice.

Or rather, he was only nice to straight people, or people he believed were straight. Whenever he mentioned something bad about them, Brian would give Roger a sympathetic look. Tim was probably the only bad thing about being at Brian’s flat.

Brian turned the radio on and started to make some kind of potato and vegetable soup. He looked over at his friend at the table who was unnaturally quiet. “You all right, Rog?”

“Y-Yeah, fine. Why?”

The guitarist stirred the soup before he walked over to the table and sat down beside him. “It’s fine if you were in a fight, Rog. I honestly couldn’t care less, yeah? I just want you to tell me the truth.”

Roger took a drag and looked over at Brian, shaking his head. “I wasn’t in a bloody fight, Bri. I was just…” He sighed, unsure how to talk about this without admitting what was going on at home. “Fine, I was in a fight. Happy?”

Brian wasn’t convinced. Even though the blonde had confessed he had been in a fight, it felt too easy; He didn’t think the man would admit to it like that and even if he did, it’d be because he won the fight. This didn’t look like Roger had won.

Roger opened his mouth to say something when he heard the door open and a wave of pot smoke wafted out.

_Had it really been an hour already?_

It couldn’t have been. Tim had come out early. He greeted Roger with a grin, a joint between his lips as he affectionately gripped Roger’s shoulders, rubbing them enthusiastically. “Hey Rog! How are you doing, mate?”

Roger looked up at Tim and forced a smile before shrugging him off. “I’m all right. How are you doing, Tim?” He took a long drag from his cigarette and watched as Brian stood up and walked back over to the soup pot.

“Yeah, I’m good, thanks,” Tim gently slapped him on the back and then sat down at the table next to Roger. “Wrote another song. Oh! I also went to the store to get some things, and you won’t believe what I saw. Two poofs making out in the tea aisle! Can you imagine?” He shivered as if the idea made his skin crawl.

Roger put on an amused smirk on his face and chuckled weakly to go along with Tim as to not give himself away, but looked down at the table in shame as Brian sat their bowls in front of them and looked at Roger who avoided his pity gaze.

“Let’s table this ever interesting discussion for another time. Now eat some dinner,” Brian suggested.

“Oh come on, Brian! Doesn’t it just weird you out to see those people being so blatant about it?” Tim put his joint on the ashtray before he started to eat the soup.

Brian sighed and shrugged. “Plenty of straight people make out in public all the time. _You_ make out in public all the time. You don’t think it’s fair that gay people do it too?”

The singer shook his head. “That’s the thing though, Brian. It’s _not_ normal for them to do it in public, is it? I mean, what if kids see? They’ll be so confused. I’m just glad none of those people come to our shows.”

Brian chuckled now. “How do you know they don’t? They look just like us. You’ve probably talked or shaken hands with them and not even knew it.”

Tim shivered dramatically again but then dropped the conversation as he continued to eat his soup. He looked over at Roger. “How’s your class going? Hey, wait… don’t you have another one right now?”

The drummer sighed, hating how the other man could go from a serious discussion that he unknowingly was offending Roger about, to a more relaxed one as if they were best friends. It confused Roger but also infuriated him to no end, catching him off guard.

“Umm… yeah, it’s good, and I do but I’m skipping it tonight. Just feeling a bit run down.” It wasn’t an entire lie; he _did_ feel run down, but mostly he was too sore to sit through another lecture.

“What?” Tim asked in disbelief. “You mustn’t ditch your classes, mate. You need to learn and meet new people, talk about important issues, you know? Class is important.”

Roger ate another spoonful of soup before glancing over at him. “So why aren’t you in university then if it’s so important?”

Brian looked over at the singer as well, interested in hearing his answer.

Tim finished his soup and reached over to grab the joint from the ashtray, inhaling. “I’m a bloody rock god, Roger… I don’t have time for all of that. Anyway, I’m learning in the real life, mate. Now, I have a date so if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m off.”

Roger watched as Tim put on his jacket and shoes and waved them goodbye before he left the flat. He waited a beat before he spoke. “Fucking tosser.”

Brian nodded and gave him a gentle look. “He can be sometimes, yeah.”

“Why are we even keeping him in the band? He’s an arsehole!” Roger threw his arms up in the air before he pushed his bowl away from him, his appetite gone. “I really fucking hope that some homosexual person hears his shit and just gives it to him!”

Brian chuckled but casually patted his friend’s shoulder. If he was honest, he wouldn’t mind to see that happen either, but he needed to try to be the calm thinking adult right now. “All right, calm down, Rog. He’s gone now. Come on, you haven’t even finished your soup. Try and eat some more.”

Roger was reluctant at first, but took another few spoonfuls of it in, glad to have a warm meal. He eventually finished it and glanced up at the clock before he started to play with the packaging of his cigarettes a bit nervously. It was almost time to go home.

Brian grabbed both their bowls and took them to the sink before washing them out and walked back to where Roger was. He searched the drummer’s face.

“Want to stay the night? It’s a long ride back to your place,” he remarked, seeing the younger man’s anxiety written on his face.

Roger looked up at him. “C-Can I? Just for the night and I’ll take a cab back tomorrow after coffee.”

“Yeah, of course, mate.” Brian nodded, giving him a gentle smile before it turned serious again and he sat down beside Roger at the table. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I mean… anything at all. I don’t really like secrets between us, yeah?”

Roger clenched his jaw but he didn’t look angry this time. He was quiet for a long time before he nodded. “I know.”

“You said you weren’t in a fight,” the older man observed softly, eyeing his friend’s broken lip suspiciously. “Did… someone hurt you, but you didn’t or… couldn’t hurt them back?”

“That’s still a fight, Bri.”

Brian chewed on his bottom lip before he shook his head. “That’s abuse, Rog,” he corrected gently. “Was it… Tim? I mean, maybe you had a run in with him somewhere and you two had a row about…how you are?”

It wasn’t that Brian had anything against homosexuals or how Roger was, it was the exact opposite, but he hated to stick labels on people, especially someone who was ultra-sensitive as Roger.

Roger shook his head. “No, it wasn’t Tim,” he thought about letting Brian continue to guess, but he figured he should be honest with him. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-It was my dad, Brian. Umm…. He was… kinda rough this morning with me.”

Brian visibly tensed and he looked at Roger with concern. “Move out of there. Come and stay here with me,” he insisted. “You know you’re always welcome here.”

Staying with Tim seemed worse somehow than staying with his abusive father. Tim was abusive in his own way. Roger shook his head immediately.

“No, no… I can’t do that. I appreciate the offer and all, but… I just can’t.”

Brian nodded and looked down at his bitten nails. “I had a feeling you’d say that. I just wanted to try. I understand why you don’t want to stay here, with him. It’d just be nice to have you around more, but I get it. I do.”

Roger nodded and smiled weakly. “Thanks, Bri. I mean, for everything. For not being like Tim when I told you about me? Or I mean, when you found out.”

The guitarist waved it off dismissively before smiling. “No worries, Rog. I’m always here for you. What are friends for, right?”

The two men chatted for another few hours, playing some Scrabble before Brian made the couch up for Roger and then headed to his room for the night. Roger curled into the blankets on the sofa and soon became deep in his thoughts as fear and panic began to set in.

He’d have to go back home after coffee in the morning, like he had promised. For a few moments, he considered asking Brian if he could stay another night here, but he shook his head to himself.

_Of course he couldn’t that. That simply wasn’t an option._

He couldn’t continue to be a burden on Brian, no matter how bad home was. The older man had already done so much for him, and even though Roger had difficulty showing his gratitude sometimes, he really was grateful for everything he had done.

He had to go back and face the music, even if it was hell at home. He wished more than anything that his mother were still alive. She hadn’t been much help before when his father had hurt him, but at least she would sing him to sleep and visit him in hospital when his father had dislocated his shoulder more than once.

He missed her more than anything.

What he wouldn’t give to see her again.

Roger forced his eyes closed before he willed himself to sleep an hour later.


	2. reminders

**.      .     .**

Roger woke up gasping for air the next morning, his head spinning wildly. He looked around to try to get a grasp on his surroundings but even though he knew where he was still, it wasn’t helping.

_Tim was here. That fucking homophobic prick._

His lungs felt like they were collapsing inside his ribcage and he felt tears prickling his eyes. He could feel himself start to hyperventilate, but he didn’t want to wake Brian up. He scrambled to get off the couch and ran towards the bathroom before he closed the door and slid down on the floor, crying.

_He’d have to go back to his father’s house today. He’d have to be around that monster too._

No place was safe.

He must have closed his eyes because he suddenly heard Brian’s soft voice talking to him.

“Rog… Roger? Hey, come on mate, open your eyes and look at me.”

He felt cold hands on his hot cheeks and he opened his eyes to look at the older man who was examining him with concern in his eyes. Brian’s strong, guitar callused hands gently cupped his face.

“You’re having a panic attack, Roger… do you know why?” Roger had an idea why, but he shook his head, wanting to hear Brian’s answer instead. “Because you know you have to go back home to your father, and you’re scared, and that’s all right, Rog. You need to breathe, though. Here, breathe with me, yeah?”

Roger watched his friend take a deep breath through his nose and echoed his motions. His breathing was coming in short spurts, which was making him panic more. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair and turned away, wanting to escape.

He wanted to disappear through the floor, feeling fucking mortified that he was seeing him so _weak._

“No, Roger,” Brian cooed gently before he softly pulled the young drummer back towards him and forced him to lock eyes with him, placing his hands back on Roger’s cheeks to help ground him. “Hey, you can do this, mate. Breathe… just breathe, all right? It’s going to be okay. I promise. Inhale, exhale.”

He demonstrated again and this time Roger felt so desperate to get oxygen into his body that he complied, inhaling through his nose, holding it as long as he could, and then exhaling slowly through his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so well, Rog. Let’s do it a couple more times…”

There was something in Brian’s voice that made Roger nod in acknowledgement and repeated the breathing exercise a few more times before he realized he was calming down now. He wiped his palms on his pants before releasing another shaky breath, his fingers feeling numb.

Brian sat in front of the blonde, watching him carefully. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Roger half lied. He was feeling terrified, to be honest. He swallowed hard. “You’re wrong. I’m not scared of going back home.”

Brian wasn’t looking very convinced but he played along. “Oh yeah? So what is it you’re afraid of then?”

_My father. Tim. Never being accepted. Of walking home along at nighttime and getting jumped. Loud noises. Yelling. Being abandoned, again._

The list went on and on, but of course he couldn’t tell Brian any of this. They hadn’t known each other too long, only two months. It seemed too soon to unload all that shit on the poor guy.

“Nothing. I’m not afraid of anything.” It was frightening how easy it came to Roger to lie to people. He was convinced he might potentially be a sociopath.

The guitarist raised his eyebrows and then sighed, shaking his head. “All right. Well… if you don’t want to leave, then don’t leave. It’s as simple as that.”

It wasn’t simple, not at all, but Roger didn’t want to go into detail.

He stood up. “I-I’m going to go put the coffee on.”

“I beat you to it. It’s probably ready now though if you want to help yourself, mate,” he also stood up and led them both out to the small kitchen where the coffee had finished brewing.

Roger poured some coffee for himself before he sat down at the table and pulled a cigarette out from the package, placing it between it between his lips and lit it. He knew it probably wasn’t a very smart idea to smoke after having that panic attack, but he felt it helped him on a psychological level.

The two friends sat in silence as they drank their coffee until Brian spoke up again.

The guitarist was rubbing his temple with his right index finger in thought as he watched Roger. “Whatever’s happening that you don’t want to talk about… this is a safe place, Rog. You can come here, day or night. Just knock on the door and one of us will let you in.”

Roger felt his heart ache and he looked over at Brian. He wanted to trust him. He wanted to believe _so fucking much_ that this was a safe place, but he knew it wasn’t, not as long as Tim was living here. Sure, he would let him in here because the singer assumed Roger was straight with the occasional girls he had slept with that Tim had seen, but if he knew what Roger really was?

He’d probably see it as his civic duty to beat Roger unconscious and lock him out of this place forever. That was probably the most terrifying thought.

Roger just nodded and leaned back in his chair, forcing a weak smirk to hide his actual pain. “Thanks, but I’m fine, really. I don’t need any safe house. I just got into a fight with a girl and I didn’t want to hurt her so I let her hit me instead.”

Brian cocked his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing a bit in confusion. “A girl? You haven’t told me about any girl lately. What’s her name?”

“Sarah,” Roger lied again, taking another drag before he took another sip of coffee.

Brian sighed. “Why did she hit you?”

Roger put the cigarette out now, getting frustrated. “What is this, twenty questions? Can I go now?” He saw Brian nod. He stood up quickly, nearly knocking his chair over as he grabbed his bag and took a cab to head home.

When he forced himself to walk inside, he instantly regretted it when he felt a heavy body shove him against the wall before slamming the door closed.

“Where the hell have you been?! Out with those deadbeat criminals of yours?”

Roger felt sick when he realized he could smell whiskey on his father’s bread. It wasn’t even ten in the morning and he was already drunk. Typical.

“Well?! Answer me, Roger!”

As scared as the drummer felt right now, he felt his own anger coming out. “No! They’re not goddamn criminals, dad! They’re musicians and they’re my friends!”

His father let go of him but not before he gave him a hard shove that would leave minor bruises on Roger’s chest. He let out a sickening snort of laughter.

“Friends? _You_? Pull the other one now, son…” Roger’s father took a long pull from the bottle before wiping his mouth and shook his head. “You’ll never have friends. Hell, you’ve never had friends, even as a kid. You scared them all away, just like you scared your mum away.”

Roger swallowed hard, shaking his head as he felt tears prickle his eyes. “M-Mum killed herself…”

His father let out another roar of laughter, taking another long drink of the whiskey. “Oh yeah, that’s right… well, she killed herself because of you, son. It was still your fault. She couldn’t stand what a fucking disappointment you are.”

Roger clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

“She killed herself because of YOU!”

“Shut up!” Roger yelled louder, clenching his hands into tight fists.

Then he felt everything go silent for two seconds and felt terror rising up in his chest.

“What did you say to me, son?”

The blonde could feel his courage wavering and he shook his head, starting to move away from him. He still had anger inside of him but it had transformed into anger at himself instead of his father. It felt like a hot fire burning inside his stomach.

“N-Nothing.”

His father drunkenly staggered towards him before he gripped Roger’s arms so tightly that the drummer found himself whimpering at his father’s steel grip. “No, son. It’s all right now. Tell me what you said to me…”

Roger knew it was a trick. He clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly but that proved to be the wrong thing to do because he felt his father throw him down on the floor before he kicked him in his stomach. He felt the air leave his lungs again and he wheezed violently, feeling tears fill his eyes.

“You don’t talk back to me like that again, son. Do you understand? That was very foolish of you.”

Roger knew he wasn’t going to leave until he got an answer so he weakly nodded. He saw footsteps walking away from him and he was still fighting to catch his breath. He punched the floor with his fist a few times before he forced himself up on his feet before he scrambled upstairs to his room, closing and locking the door.

_Fuck._

He coughed several times until he finally got his breath back again. His stomach hurt so bad now from where his father kicked him.

He suddenly remembered that had chapters to read for his class and pulled the books out of his bag and plonked himself down on his bed before he started to read, coughing every now and then. He thought about he’d get to see Liam again tomorrow in class, and that thought made the pain seem almost worth it.

 

**\----------------**

The next morning, Roger made sure to wake up early enough so he didn’t have to face his father and got dressed before he hailed a cab for the university.

His stomach was still in pain but not as much as it had been in last night but he could see the bruises were very much visible on both his arms, covering more of a space than they had previously. He made sure to pull his sleeves down over them so no one else saw them before he lit a cigarette and hopped out when it was time to get out.

Once he had grabbed his bag and started towards his class, he saw a familiar face meet him halfway towards the building and motion to follow him elsewhere instead. He smirked and took a drag of his cigarette before he walked side by side with Liam who was leading him towards the parking lot.

“I didn’t take you for the cutting class type,” Roger admitted.

Liam chuckled and shrugged. “Well maybe you shouldn’t assume things about people. They can surprise you.”

Roger grinned and nodded in agreement. He saw Liam get into a van and assumed it was his own, following him quickly before he shut the door close and turned to look at the man who was already getting comfortable.

He took off his shoes and turned the radio on before he grabbed a joint and lit it, sitting on the bench seat in the back. Roger also took his shoes off and sat down on the floor of the vehicle in front of him, noticing now that Liam his legs on either side of Roger and felt a warmth spread throughout his body.

“You strike me as the type who cuts class a lot,” Liam spoke after he took a toke and then handed it to the blonde in front of him.

There was something about Liam’s eyes that made Roger feel relaxed and safe. This was safe. No father, no Tim. This was perfect.

Roger took the joint between his fingers and inhaled before exhaling, coughing slightly, igniting a soft laugh from the other man. “Well, you’d be right about that. I do skip class, a lot, actually. I think I might actually fail this semester.”

“Maybe I should tutor you,” Liam suggested in a suggestive tone.

Roger tensed slightly, not having expected him to be so blunt in his flirting. He chuckled a bit nervously but nodded. “Yeah, maybe you should. Think you could show me a few things?” Roger flirted back.

“Oh, definitely. And then some.”

Roger saw Liam biting his lip now and saw him move towards him. He rested the joint on a nearby ashtray in between the two front seats and met Liam in time to feel his tongue inside of his mouth as he straddled Roger.

He placed his hands on his waist, feeling his body instantly reacting. He kissed him back feverishly, and soon felt both their bodies moving against each other. Things were going pretty well until he felt Liam lay him down on the floor of the back seat and lay Roger down on his back as he gripped Roger’s wrists tightly, holding them down firmly.

Roger bucked him, hoping that Liam would take the hint but it only made him more passionate. He felt the panic rising up inside of him once again and felt his heart thumping loudly in his ears as this other man who he barely even knew undid his belt.

The sound of the belt buckle unhooking was enough and he suddenly scrambled backwards, ripping his arms away from Liam. “Stop… stop.”

Liam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and agitation before he moved closer to Roger again and kissed his lips again.

Maybe kissing would be okay. Maybe that’s all he would want to do now.

Roger kissed him back, and caressed his tongue over Liam’s, but then he felt hands on him again, this time slipping under his shirt. He sighed, feeling the panic only getting worse. “S-Stop…”

“You don’t want me to stop, Roger,” Liam purred, kissing the drummer’s neck before he started to slip his hand under his pants.

Roger suddenly shoved Liam away harder, knowing he would regret this later. “I said stop! Fuck!” He saw Liam look at him in disbelief before he hit his hand hard against the van near Roger’s head, causing the drummer to flinch.

“You’re such a fucking tease!” Liam growled before he grabbed his joint and exited the van, leaving Roger by himself.

_What the hell was he doing? He wanted Liam. He found him attractive, so what was the problem? Why did he just blow it with him?_

His father.

He was the problem.

Roger was glad that Liam hadn’t gotten to taking off his shirt, lest he see the bruises on his arms. He swallowed hard, running his hands through his hair. Everything was so fucked up right now.

He couldn’t go back to class and face Liam again. He needed to get out of here. He buckled himself back up and then thought about stealing his van, but figured that’d just make everything a lot worse between them.

He smoked another cigarette before he finally forced himself out of the van and decided to go over to Brian’s flat even though he knew he was still in class.

He knew what that meant.

He’d be alone with Tim.

Roger could handle the emotional abuse better than the physical. He’d just suck it up. He hailed a cab and go out in front of the house. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Hold on!” he heard Tim call out from within.

Roger sighed and waited several moments, not liking being outside, exposed like this. He knocked again, and this time the door opened and he saw a woman slip out as the singer appeared at the door with a satisfied look on his face and a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh, hello, Roger. What brings you here? Brian’s still in class, I think.”

The drummer would’ve forced himself inside but Tim was blocking the whole doorway with his arms. “I know he is. Can I just come inside, please?” He tried to keep his frustration out of his voice.

“Oh, right,” Tim chuckled, moving aside now. Roger made his way inside and heard the door close behind him.

“Good to see you’re making friends,” Roger teased, seeing two bottles of beer on the table and a lit joint in the ashtray almost burned down to nothing.

Tim chuckled and slinked over to Roger. “I’m going to go take a shower. Go ahead and make yourself at home. Be out soon.”

The blonde nodded and watched as he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. How Tim acted when he wasn’t being a complete homophobic bastard was infuriating. It made it impossible for Roger to hate him the way he wanted to. He had to remind himself how this guy was at bars, shouting slurs to gay and bisexual people alike.

He knew that even Brian despised how he acted, but they needed to hold out longer if they wanted to make it as a band. They’d decide what to do with him later, but they needed to focus on that now.

Roger sat on the couch and looked down at his hands, realizing he didn’t feel much of anything. Maybe sadness.

Yeah, he definitely felt sadness. A sense of worthlessness.

He didn’t know how long it had been but he heard footsteps come out of a bedroom and saw Tim in silk pants and an open robe, his long hair still damp and saw him fall into an armchair.

“So how come you’re ditching your class again?”

Roger shrugged. “Just didn’t feel like going.”

“You never feel like going,” Tim observed, taking a sip of one of the beers on the coffee table. “Really, there’s no answer other than that?”

_I was about to have sex with this guy and I panicked because he was reminding me of my father._

“Nope, that’s about it.”

Tim scoffed but he smirked at him. “All right, then. What did you want to do then? We can go out somewhere if you want? I can change my clothes. Maybe we can go out for a drink?”

Roger glanced at the clock nearby. “It’s only half ten. You want to go out for a drink at half ten in the morning? Look at you, you’re drinking right now!”

Tim groaned and finished the beer before he set it down. “You’re an unbelievable hypocrite. You’ve drank at earlier times than this. You’re hardly one to lecture me about my alcohol consumption!”

It was true; Tim had him there.

To be fair though, he hadn’t gone to bed yet and he was just trying to finish up his drinking for the night. It had been half three in the morning.  “It doesn’t count until you go to bed and wake up again.”

Tim shrugged and was quiet for a long time, lighting up another cigarette and looked at the drummer. “The whole time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bring a bird in here.”

Roger tensed slightly but hoped it wasn’t too noticeable.

“Well, I have. Anyway, you haven’t known me for long. I’m going to go wait in Brian’s room. I’m tired and need to nap.” He stood up and then saw Tim stand up at the same time before he meandered over to him.

“You’re not one of those fairies, are you, Roger?”

The drummer forced himself to keep his anger in check. If Tim saw how defensive he was about it, he’d figure it out. He shook his head. “No, are you?”

Tim chuckled now before he let Roger move towards Brian’s rooms without another word. Roger closed the door and curled up in Brian’s bed before he fell asleep, letting the comfort of the soft bed take him away and escape to a safer place.


	3. Maybe

**.    .    .**

 

“Rog… hey, come on, mate. Wake up.”

The drummer groaned, looking around to try to take in his surroundings to remember where he was. He rubbed his eyes when his eyes finally rested on Brian, who was examining him with concerned eyes. “How long have you been home for?”

Brian sat down on the bed beside him and tucked his curly hair behind his ears to get it out of his face. “Just got home a few minutes ago. Tim told me you were in here. Everything all right?”

Roger felt his bruises under his shirt as he moved slightly, grimacing in pain but tried not to show it. He swallowed hard, deciding instead to remain quiet. Everything was not all right, but he didn’t want to burden his problems on his friend. This was his issue, not Brian’s; he needed to be a big boy and deal with this alone.

“Yeah, fine. I just came by to visit,” Roger sighed as he sat up in bed, running his hands through his blonde hair, still struggling to wake up.

“Well, I’m going to guess it wasn’t Tim that you came to visit. Did you forget I was in class?” Brian asked softly, his tone merely curious, maybe even worried.

The drummer shrugged. “I was tired. I figured I’d nap before you came back home and then we could hang out.”

Brian searched Roger’s face with skeptical eyes.

“What?”

“Where are you living right now, Roger? Are you still living at home with your father?”

Roger shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about this right now, about his father. About anything. If he was honest, a part of him just wanted to go back to sleep and forget about today. He wanted to forget about his father, and Liam, and maybe even Tim.

It was evident by his body language that the guitarist was starting to get frustrated, and this fact made Roger feel even more guilt, but he didn’t speak.

“Come on, Rog. Answer me, please?” Brian searched Roger’s eyes, as if he would find the answers in them.

“Yeah, I’m living with him still.”

“You need to talk to me, mate. You need to tell me what’s going on. Let me in. I can help.”

Roger shook his head and finally got out of the bed. He stretched and looked at him. “I’m going to go take a shower.” He didn’t wait for Brian’s reply as he made a beeline for the bathroom and felt grateful to find it unoccupied.

He closed the door and locked it before he got undressed and slipped into the shower, letting the warm water run down his sore, aching body. He knew that Brian was just trying to help but he didn’t want it. He felt like he deserved to be alone. He made his bed; he had to sleep in it.

Roger washed up and was getting changed in Brian’s room when he heard a knock at the door. He sighed, swearing that if it was Brian again asking him how he was, he’d jump out the window. He finished getting dressed in sweatpants and opened the door to see Tim eyeing him carefully.

“Hey, one of your mates is outside, asking for you, Rog.”

The drummer felt his stomach twist uncomfortably but he tried not to give himself away. He nodded and gave Tim a forceful smile before he hurried past him and opened the front door to see Liam.

He felt sick as he thought about how things had gone between them earlier, but then another thought gave way.

“Umm… how did you find out where I live?”

Liam took something out of his pocket and threw it to Roger, who caught it itself. “Missing something?” _Roger must have dropped it in the van during their make out session._ “Can we talk?”

Roger nodded, feeling Tim’s eyes piercing straight through the back of his head and he stepped outside the front door before closing it behind him. He lowered his voice, searching Liam’s face. “What did you want to talk about?”

“About us,” Liam shrugged. “Look, I don’t know what happened earlier with us, and it’s… really bothering me, mate. I need to know we’re okay, because… I think you’re amazing and I don’t want to fuck this up. Just tell me what happened. Why did you… freak out, Rog?”

The blonde swallowed hard. “I’m not ready to tell you yet. Just… consider us made up, yeah?”

Liam sighed but nodded. “Yeah, okay, but I want you to tell me eventually. I know you barely know me, Roger, but you can trust me. Whatever it is, I want to help you get through it.”

Roger wanted to believe him, but he knew he wasn’t going to ever trust anyone as much as he trusted Brian. Plus, the scene in the van stuck out in his mind: where Liam was holding his wrists down, and Roger was forced to push him away because he wasn’t listening. He felt nauseous again.

He nodded but still stood outside awkwardly. “Y-You should go. I’ll see you tomorrow at class.”

Liam looked hesitant but he nodded. He leaned in suddenly and kissed Roger’s lips before he moved away, searching the drummer’s eyes and then hurried back to his van. Roger stood there, surprised that he just kissed him so publically, and then felt a rush of adrenaline shoot through him. He wasn’t ready to be outed yet. If anyone else saw them, that’d be it, especially if it was Tim.

He felt a mixture of self-conscious and fear now as he turned around and started back inside, not missing the way Tim was looking at him.

“Who was that?”

Roger maneuvered around him, trying to avoid looking at him. He was afraid if he did, then Tim would see right through him. “Just a friend from university. His name is Liam.”

“Oh, right. What did he want?” Tim plopped himself down in front of the television.

Roger thought fast on his feet. “Just had to return something I dropped inside one of the buildings. I’m going to bed. I’m knackered.”

Tim gave a small smile and a wave before looking back at the telly, allowing Roger a quick escape towards Brian’s room. He saw the guitarist already changed into his pajamas and was lying in bed studying.

“Who was it at the door?” Brian glanced up at him as Roger got in on the other side of the bed.

Roger knew better than to lie to him about who he really was. He searched Brian’s face. “It was Liam, the guy from my class. Umm… we were hanging out his van earlier and my wallet must had fallen out. He came here to return it.”

The older man cocked his head slightly to the left. “How did he know the address, Rog?”

Roger grabbed his wallet that was on the bedside table and opened it up, taking out a small slip of paper that had their flat address on it. “Just in case I lose it.”

Brian chuckled now and shook his head in amusement. “You’re lucky he’s a decent bloke. All your money still in it?”

The drummer looked at him now in disbelief. “You’re joking. What money? The last gig we played was weeks ago! I’m broke now. I barely have enough to get to uni and back. If you would just let me drive your van –"

“Roger, ignoring the fact that you’re the world’s worst drive for a moment, what on earth would _I_ drive to uni if you had my van?”

The blonde shrugged. “You could just drop me off on your way, Bri. It isn’t rocket science, is it?”

“No, Rog, you’re right; it’s not rocket science, but it _is_ nearly twenty minutes out of my way and I’d be late for class. You could save a lot of money though though if you just let Tim drive you there and back,” Brian observed, looking back down at his book.

Roger ran a hand through his hair and scoffed. “Yeah, right. Fuck that. I’d rather take a cab and risk not having enough fare. Tim might run us off the road… he’s high nearly all the time. Every time I come home early, it smells like one of our shows!”

Brian smirked, shaking his head. “It does smell pretty back here, doesn’t it? I know you don’t get along, but he helps out on rent and he’s one of the best singers we’ve heard in a long time. Just put up with him or a little longer, yeah, mate?”

Roger grumbled but nodded, curling back into the blankets. “Yeah, all right.”

“Do you want me to turn off the light? I have an exam tomorrow…”

“No,” Roger shook his head before he turned onto his side, facing the window. “It’s fine. Night, Bri.”

Brian smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Rog.”

 

**…… .. ……. …  ………. … ………**

The next morning, Roger woke up to sounds of shuffling. He groaned, willing the annoying sound to go away so he could sleep for another couple hours, at least.

“I’m late for class… and you are too,” a voice said from somewhere in the room. When Roger just groaned again, the voice spoke once again as well. “Get up, Rog!”

The drummer opened his eyes and looked at Brian who was standing by the bed, shoving his books into his bag. “I’m not going to class. Be quiet, will you? I’m going back to sleep.”

Brian stopped and looked at his friend with worry again but cleared his throat. “We’re going to talk once I get back.”

“Talk?” Roger turned over to look at him again. “About what?”

Brian motioned at Roger as he lay in bed. “This. You… everything. I’ll see you in a few hours. Do me a favor though, Rog, and at least _try_ to go to class, yeah?”

Before the drummer could argue with him, Brian was out of the room and then out of the house. He tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t, so he forced himself to get up and walked into the kitchen to make the coffee.

Tim was already up, sitting cross legged on the couch in the living room, sipping coffee he had already brewed. “Going to class?”

“No,” Roger shook his head, pouring himself a cup before sitting at the kitchen table a bit a ways. “How are you up right now? It’s not even eight…” He rubbed his eyes sleepily.

Tim looked over at him. “I’ve been thinking. About that guy that came around to the flat looking for you yesterday – "

“Liam?”

“Yeah, Liam. He seems like he hasn’t gotten laid in months… you should watch out for him. He’ll probably try and make a pass at you.”

The comment wasn’t out of the ordinary for Tim to say, but the suddenness of it make Roger look over at him. “What? What are you even talking about?”

“ _Liam_ , Rog! Have you even looked at him? He looks like a puff, that’s all I’m saying, mate. If you hang around with that type, it’s bound to rub off on you. He looks desperate for a shag,” Tim replied, nonchalantly.

Roger felt defensive as he anger rose up inside his chest. He wanted to scream at him and ask how he would even know. He wanted to tell him that that wasn’t how being gay worked, but he knew he couldn’t. At least not if he wanted to protect himself.

Tim couldn’t know. Not yet.

“He’s just a friend. Relax…”  Roger sipped his coffee, swallowing back his frustration.

The singer chortled, amused at his own words earlier, no doubt. He let the subject drop before he suddenly stood up and walked towards the phone where a notepad and a pen lay. “Oh! Before I forget, your father called, Rog.”

The blonde tensed up, but hoped it hadn’t been too visible. “W-What did he want?”

Tim shrugged. “He said he wanted you to come back home. I guess he wants to talk to you about something.”

Roger tried to imagine what the hell his father would want to talk about with him. Maybe he wanted to apologize? Was it too much to hope for that? He nodded and then finished his coffee before he jumped in the shower and threw clothes on before he remembered Brian’s words from last night.

He pulled out his wallet and saw that he only had a few pence left in his wallet. He cursed aloud, realizing what he’d have to do. He took a deep breath and walked out to where Tim was.

“Hey, umm… can you give me a lift to my dad’s? I’m just about out of money.”

Tim was already stood up and had grabbed his keys before Roger could finish. “Yeah, of course. Let us be off.” He opened the door for Roger and followed him out before he locked the door behind him and then started driving him to Roger’s father’s place.

He felt butterflies in his stomach as he tried to imagine all the possible scenarios how this could go. He swallowed hard, realizing how much now he wished that he had Brian doing this with him instead of Tim.

“Hey, you all right, mate?” Tim glanced over at him as he drove.

Roger nodded before he took out a package of cigarettes from his pocket and opened the window halfway before he lit up, taking a deep drag to try and calm his nerves. “Yeah, fine.”

“Are you nervous about seeing him?”

_God, he wished Tim would just drop it already._

Roger sighed. “No, I said I’m fine.” He took another drag before exhaling out the window.

They drove in silence for about ten minutes before Tim spoke up again. “You know, I didn’t really get on well with my own father. Did you know that?” When Roger shook his head, he continued. “Yeah, umm… we’d have fights, constantly. Mostly over stupid shit that wouldn’t matter a week from now, but I guess it seemed important at the time. Most of the time, though, it ended up with me getting a bloody lip or a black eye.”

Roger tensed, glancing over at him now. This story was hitting way too close to home now. Tim was an awful person, but he didn’t think he deserved to get beat on by his father as well. “So what did you do? How did you make it stop?”

Tim shrugged. “I moved out. I never talked to him again.”

Figures. That seemed so easy to do the way that Tim said it. It seemed like just anyone could do it, no problem. Not Roger, though. Moving out meant that he was scared, and he didn’t want to admit that to his father, not when his father already thought so less of him.

“We’re here.”

Roger looked over at the house and saw that they, indeed, were here. He took a deep breath and threw his cigarette on the ground before he got out of the car and then had a thought. He leaned over to look at Tim through the window.

“Will you wait for me? I shouldn’t be too long.” _In case things went really bad._

Tim searched his face but he nodded. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” He shut the engine off and then lit up a spliff.

Roger nodded almost appreciatively before he took a deep breath and started towards the door of his childhood home, telling himself silently that he shouldn’t expect the worst. Maybe his father was going to apologize for the abuse, for blaming Roger for her death. Maybe his father wanted to make amends.

Then again, maybe not.


	4. impossibility

**.       .      .**

Roger felt his heart drumming anxiously inside of his chest as he neared the door. Since he still lived there a part of the time, he didn’t bother to knock before he entered his father’s house. He entered and looked around, a chill in the air.

He ran his hand through his hair as he listened for every single sound and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the sound of a bottle clattering to the floor. He turned and looked into the living room to see his father groaning as he drunkenly woke up from a nap.

_He could leave now, and his father would be none the wiser. So what the hell was he still doing here?_

Then, the sound of his father made him shiver with fear and agitation.

“See you’ve finally come home, son… away from the delinquents,” his father coughed before he grabbed another beer from the fridge. “Back for good, I take it?”

Roger tried to square his shoulders back, feeling his spine prickle with anger at the jab of his friends, or at least about Brian. He swallowed hard and shook his head.

He took a few steps back. “No,” he said bravely. “I came to see what it was exactly you wanted. Was it just you needing me back home to take care of your drunk arse, then?”

Before Roger could move back any further, he suddenly felt himself be shoved hard against the counter and felt his father’s hands hold him there roughly.

“Listen here, you ungrateful shit,” his father slurred. “You’ll get nowhere hanging with those nobodies! They’re just going to drag you down with them… between your smokin’ and whorin’, you’re going to end up nowhere! Now you’re going to stop this music nonsense at once!” He let go of Roger’s shirt, almost causing him to fall.

The drummer caught himself quickly but he shook his head, feeling his father’s anger swallow him up as well. He stormed over to him and he shoved him once, his father looking somewhat taken back but a storm was brewing in his eyes.

“I’m not going to stop, Dad! I love those delinquents, and I fucking love music, and I’m going to keep smoking because it makes me feel a hell of a lot better than being around you!”

Roger knew without a doubt, he had chosen the wrong words to say because he instantly felt saw his father throw a right hook and he then Roger felt the wind knocked out of him, causing him to fall to his knees and gasp for breath.

“You _dare_ to disobey _me_?!”

Roger saw his father about to pounce on him again but he felt frozen in place. He was still trying to gasp for breath as he scrambled to get away from him. He felt his arm being grabbed sharply behind him and screamed out in pain as he heard a sickening _pop_ sound in his ears as pain shot throughout his arm and shoulder.

He felt tears rise in his eyes and he tried to get up but then felt his father backhand him and he fell back down again, this time tasting blood in his mouth. He spit it out and cried out in pain, holding his shoulder in excruciating pain.

“J-Just let me go! Stop…” Roger tried his best not to beg too hard.

Then he heard another familiar, sickening sound: the sound of his father undoing his belt and the metallic clinging of the metal as he got ready to wind up. He pushed himself forward on the floor but a sharp, blinding pain as he felt the leather whip his back made him scream in agony. He knew he should’ve gotten up from the floor and overpowered his father, or at least tried to, but he couldn’t find the strength.

He let him whip his back a few more times and then heard his father’s slurred voice again. “I want you out of my house by the end the week or you’ll get worse! I refuse to have some burned out drummer as my son!”

Roger didn’t move until he felt footsteps go up the stairs, and then heard him pass out in his bed heavily. He was about to force himself to stand up when he stopped moving, hearing footsteps again, but this time when he looked over, he felt relief he never thought he’d feel.

It was Tim, looking like he had been waiting until Roger’s father had lumbered upstairs before he decided to come inside.

“Shit, Rog!” he swore in a hushed, panicked whisper now. He took a moment to compose himself and then made the drummer put his good arm around his shoulder before he helped him up and quickly got him out of the house.

Roger wasn’t entirely sure what was even happening at the moment.

It felt like there were a thousand shards of glass in his shoulder; the pain was white hot blinding. He could faintly hear Tim’s voice and before he knew it, the drummer was in the waiting room of a hospital.

He looked around and rubbed his eyes, wondering why he didn’t fit in the category of an emergency. He could feel a warm liquid running down his back, soaking his shirt, his face was killing him, and he knew his arm was dislocated, at the very least; he recognized the pain from times before. The whole experience felt surreal, though.

Tim sitting here beside him, writing in answers on the paperwork since he couldn’t write. Why was Tim still here? None of it felt real. It couldn’t be because the singer actually _cared_ about Roger’s well-being, could it? Then again, he also didn’t know what side of the fence Roger was walking on officially.

He suspected, maybe, but didn’t know for sure. Maybe Tim’s ignorance worked out in Roger’s benefit. Would he still be here if he knew? Probably not.

“Brian…” Roger whispered, looking around. _He wanted Brian to be here now._

Tim looked at him with a look in his eyes that Roger had never seen before with him. It scared him. Concern and worry filled the slightly older man’s eyes.

“Hey, no worries, Rog. I’ll call him, yeah? I’ll let him know you’re here. He’s probably still in class, though. Will you be okay here alone for a couple minutes?” Tim searched his friend’s face.

Roger nodded and realized how dazed he probably looked at the moment. He blinked and tried to pull himself together. “Y-Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Go on, then,” he nodded towards the phone on the wall nearby, holding his arm close to him.

Tim nodded and turned in Roger’s paperwork to the receptionist before he walked over to the phone to dial whatever number he could to get a hold of Brian.

Roger rubbed his head at the headache that was starting to form and tried to focus on other things other than the pain he was feeling.

_Who could Tim call to get a hold of Brian?_

He could try one of Brian’s friends from class who came over sometimes to study astrophysics with him. Tim could call home, in case the guitarist had either skipped class or got out of class early. Tim could try Chrissy, a woman that Roger heard he have been seeing off and on.

He looked around at the others in the waiting area: people with broken legs, stab wounds, flus, and other unfortunate conditions that looked worse than his own. By the time Tim had returned, he had two coffees in his hands and Roger was feeling physically exhausted from the morning’s events.

“I brought one for you, in case you felt up to drinking it,” the singer offered feebly, sitting down and holding it out to the blonde.

Roger looked at him in weak disbelief. It figures that Roger was injured and Tim’s helpful solution was to give him some coffee. It was only a matter of time until Tim proved his worth in this situation. Now he really wanted Brian.

He shook his head. “I’m knackered… wake me when it’s my turn, yeah?”

Tim raised his eyebrows in surprise but he set the extra coffee on the empty seat beside him before he nodded and watched as Roger lay on his good side, holding his arm close to his body as he took up three seats on his side before he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he had slept for but he woke up to the sound of Brian’s voice.

“Rog? Hey… are you awake, mate?” His voice was soft and full of anxiety.

The drummer moaned sleepily and rubbed his eyes before he slowly sat up and looked around to see the waiting room was just about empty now, save for the person diagonal from them with the flu. He felt Brian’s hands on his shoulders and now realized that his ride was nowhere to be seen now.

“Where’s Tim?” Roger asked, looking up at the older man.

“He went home… Rog, what the hell happened…?” The guitarist’s voice wasn’t angry or frustrated. It was the very opposite. It was full of confusion and concern. He searched Roger’s face before he fixed a lock of hair that had fallen in the younger man’s face.

Roger cleared his throat, before he looked at his friend. “What did Tim tell you?”

Brian sighed and sat down beside Roger before shaking his head. “Not much. Just that… he took you to your father’s house, and… he heard screaming, saw you were hurt. Brought you here.”

The blonde shifted in his seat nervously, looking away. “Well, that’s pretty much all of what happened, then. Glad he was worried enough to stick around,” he scoffed, kicking the chair near him.

“Roger,” Brian said gently, turning to look at him. “You know how he is. He’s not the... ‘stay-with-you-at-hospital’ type. It’s just how he is.”

“Are you joking? He’s a complete wanker! You’re defending him! Why are you even here anyway? I don’t need anyone!” Roger exclaimed and cringed as he felt tears well in his eyes at the thought of being left here alone.

Brian gently placed a hand on Roger’s good shoulder carefully to help calm him.

“Shh…” he hushed him softly. “I’m not trying to defend him. I’m on your side, Roger, always. I’m just saying, him being an arsehole is his personality. He’s not going to stay for either of us in the hospital. I’m not leaving you here alone, though, Rog.”

The drummer felt grateful, nodding before he looked over at Brian. He looked as tired as Roger felt. He felt guilt filling him up like an hourglass the longer he watched his friend, so he looked down at his lap again.

He saw Brian about to open his mouth out of the corner of his eye when he heard someone call his name.

“Roger Taylor?”

He groaned as he stood up and walked over to the woman in the scrubs before following her into a room. Brian had started to follow Roger but the drummer saw the nurse stop him and look at him apologetically before she shut the door in his face.

Roger spent a good hour and a half before he was finally released. His arm had been popped back into place again, but it still hurt like a lot. They put antiseptic on the belt welts on his back and bandaged them up before putting a few stitches into his lip and then let him go.

He was almost surprised when he walked back out to the waiting room and Brian stood up quickly, hurrying over to him.

“Can you go home now? Is everything okay?”

Roger nodded, the brace his arm was in now feeling uncomfortable. “Yeah, they said I can leave. So… can we just go now? I’m tired, Bri.” He knew he sounded whiny, but he couldn’t keep it out of his voice so he didn’t even try.

“Yeah, of course.” Brian led Roger out of the hospital and helped him get into his van before he started it up and began to drive back to their flat.

A heaviness hung thick in the air between them as darkness drenched them outside. Roger wasn’t sure what time it was, but he knew it had to be late. He still felt sore, but at least the doctor had given him some sleeping pills to help with the pain and make it easier to fall asleep.

“You never told me what happened, Rog…”

The younger man glanced over at him. “I thought Tim told you what happened.”

Brian shook his head as he came to a stop at a red light, the streetlamps flooding their van with light. “He told me that he took you to your father’s house, and then he heard a scream, and that’s when he rushed in to help you. What happened between, though?”

“Connect the dots, Bri…” Roger sighed, running his hand through his hair.

“I’m trying, Roger…” Brian also sighed, trying to be calm. “What did your father do, exactly? I mean, obviously he dislocated your arm, but that’s all I know. What did he say?”

He didn’t want to think about this anymore. He just wanted to go home and sleep. He had enough negative social interaction for one day. Roger shook his head before he felt around in his pockets and grabbed his cigarettes and struggled to get one out of the package.

Brian reached over and helped him before he handed it to him and then grabbed a lighter and lit the end of it for him before he glanced over. “Well?”

Roger took a drag. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight, Brian. Just drop it, yeah? I’m so tired, and my head is pounding. Can we just… talk about it some other time?”

The guitarist looked hesitant but nodded. “All right. Sure…”

The two men were silent the rest of the ride home. Once Brian shut the car off, Roger got out of the van and hurried inside the flat before he started looking around for Tim. He was about to give up until he heard a giggle come from inside the singer’s room. He felt a surge of anger hit him and he didn’t bother to knock as he opened the door and saw Tim hovering over a woman who let out a cry when she saw Roger enter.

“Oi!”

Roger glared at Tim. “What the fuck, Tim?”

“What the fuck, what?”

The drummer shoved Tim angrily with his good arm. “You’re the world’s worst friend, you know that? You fucking left me at the hospital! You said you were just going to call Brian. I thought you’d be right back!”

Tim barely even budged when Roger shoved him with one hand. He chuckled and tied the bedsheet around his waist before he turned back to Roger. “Easy, mate… I took you there, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well good thing you did the very least you could then! Good on you, Tim. You barely even made a fucking effort to make sure I was going to be okay! Fuck you!” He wound up a punch and attempted to made contact with Tim’s face, but the singer moved out of the way, causing Roger to lose his balance and nearly fall.

Brian caught him just in time and put himself between the two men. “All right, that’s enough now! To bed, Roger. Come on….” He put his hands out but didn’t actually touch Roger, trying to usher him out of Tim’s room.

Roger clenched his jaw but left the room to head towards the guitarist’s instead. He shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking prick!”

Brian sighed, closing the bedroom door behind him before the two men started to change for bed. Unsurprisingly Roger got stuck with his shirt and Brian helped him out of it carefully. “Do you really think getting into another fight today is going to make your arm heal any faster?”

“No, but it’ll feel good,” Roger replied before he got into bed on the other side. “He deserves it, for leaving me there! I’m lucky he even called you at all. He ditched me so he could get laid! Tell me how fair that is!”

Brian also got into bed and turned over to face him. “You’re right, Roger. It’s not fair, and he is a prick for doing it. He should’ve at least stayed there until I arrived. I’m as upset about it as you are, but fighting Tim isn’t going to change what happened. Tim’s still going to have left you there. It’ll just make him hate you and the last thing we need is animosity between the two of you so close to our next gig.”

Roger groaned in frustration before he tried to find a decent position to lay in that wasn’t too uncomfortable. He was glad to have bandages on his back covering the belt marks on his skin. He shivered as he felt Brian’s fingertips just barely graze his skin, tracing the outline of his back.

He felt his heartrate increase at the gentle touch and he felt the flutter in his chest like he had felt with Liam the first time he had seen him, before the van incident. He swallowed hard, knowing what this feeling meant to Roger, but didn’t know what it would mean to Brian. It was an impossibility; Roger hadn’t known him for too long, but as far as he did know, the guitarist was straight.

“W-What are you doing, Bri?” He asked, his voice curious, gentle.

The younger man felt the warm fingers leave his skin and heard him clear his throat. “N-Nothing. I just… wanted to make sure your bandages were on all right, which… they are. Goodnight, Rog. Wake me if you need help with anything.”

Roger glanced over and watched as his friend turned his back to face him and felt disheartened. Even just looking at him made his palms sweat and his heart race. He forced himself to look back down at his own place in bed and took a shaky breath.

What was the point in dreaming about things that couldn’t be? It was just a waste of time. He took a couple of the sleeping pills and tried to relax before he felt his body fall into a deep slumber.


	5. blackout

**.       .       .**

Roger woke up to an empty bed the next morning but he could hear arguing. He rolled out of bed and opened the bedroom door a crack, just loud enough where he could hear the arguing more clearly.

“I don’t get what the big deal is here! I took him to the hospital, didn’t I?”

_Tim’s voice._

A shiver of anger ran down Roger’s spine. He clenched and unclenched the fist. He looked through the slit in the door and saw Brian looking impatient, shaking his head.

“The big deal, Tim, is that you called me to take your place with him at the hospital so you could come home and sleep with a woman! You didn’t even care enough to stay there with us to make sure he was all right!”

“Jesus Christ… are you serious, mate?” Roger saw Tim run a hand through his hair in frustration. “You’re right. I _don’t_ care! He’s your friend, Brian! I’m only nice to him because he’s our drummer and we need him! I didn’t even want him in the band in the first bloody place!”

The words stung. Roger felt sick, but in a weird way, he also felt validated. This whole time, Roger had only _suspected_ Tim of not liking him, but now it was true. He was just a drummer to him. Nevertheless, as much of an asshole Tim was, Roger also wanted to believe that the singer was capable of being a decent person, someone who actually cared about him, and thought of him as a friend.

He looked back out to see Brian’s reaction.

“Are you a fucking sociopath, Tim?” He asked him disbelief.

The other man scoffed and shook his head before Roger saw him shove Brian now, the guitarist stumbling back a little. “Give me a break! You fucking coddle him so much that I wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you are being poofs together! Tell me what it is you two are doing in that bed, exactly, Brian… I wouldn’t be surprised at all if he ended up being a fucking bum boy!”

Roger had opened the door to make a run at Tim when he stopped suddenly to see Brian punch him across the face. He looked over and saw blood coming from the singer’s nose.

“What the fuck?!” Tim held his nose and looked up at the guitarist who was looking dead-eye at him.

“Get the hell out, Tim.”

“What? No, fuck that. You two need me! Without me, you both are nothing!” He yelled, wiping the blood on his hand.

Brian shook his head, looking like he was trying hard to hold himself back. He glanced over at Roger before looking back at Tim. “We don’t need a homophobic arsehole like you. Get out of our flat. I don’t care where you go, but I don’t want to see your face again. Get out!”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “You’ll regret this.”

Brian shoved him towards the front door. “I said leave! NOW!” 

Tim grabbed his keys and started out the door, slamming it shut behind him, leaving both men in a deafening silence. Brian and Roger looked at each other, and Roger swore he could hear both their hearts racing with adrenaline at what had just happened.

“You fired him…” Roger spoke first, in realization.

The older man took a deep breath and nodded before he walked over to him, searching his face. “He was a sociopath. You didn’t get along with him. It wasn’t ever going to work out with him, Rog.”

Roger wasn’t sure if his friend was just making excuses for getting rid of Tim, but he couldn’t deny how grateful he felt for it. He felt safe with the singer not being around the house. The air felt undeniably lighter. He nodded and saw Brian start the coffee and then plant himself on the couch after turning on the radio.

The drummer sat down next to him and ran a hand through his hair before he looked over at him as the obvious statement hung in the air between them.

“We need a new singer, and a bass player.”

Brian nodded and looked down at his hands before he sighed. “Let’s just focus on class right now, Rog. If we happen to find someone who fits that bill, then… we’ll talk about it, but we both need to finish up this semester anyway. We’ll… cross that bridge when we come to it, yeah?”

Roger nodded, agreeing that was also for the best. The selfish part of him was glad that he had the older man to himself now, at least here at home if nothing else. He gave him a small smile.

“Did you… hit him because of that crack he made about me being gay?” Roger asked curiously.

Brian looked almost ashamed of himself now but he nodded. He rubbed his eyes before looking back at his friend. “He shouldn’t have talked that way about you. It doesn’t matter if you are gay, Rog. It doesn’t matter to me. You’re still my best friend, and you didn’t deserve him saying all that shit about you.”

Roger felt his heart swell, but he didn’t trust his voice so he nodded gratefully.

“I have an exam today so I won’t be home until about seven tonight. Are you all right taking a cab?” Brian asked before he stood up and started to make both of them coffee.

The blonde thought about how he had hardly any money and he looked down at the jade colored rug on the floor. He sighed heavily, hating asking what he had to ask.

“I don’t have any money,” he ran his hands through his hair again. “I ran out the other day.”

Brian gave him a small smile. “Don’t worry, I can give you some cab fare, Rog. I’d drop you off and pick you up myself if my schedule allowed it.”

Roger chuckled. “I know. Thanks.” Since he first met him and they had discussed their class schedules, Brian had been nonstop apologetic about not being able to cater to Roger and be his chauffer.

The guitarist came back with two cups of coffee and sat down next to him but turned to face him and put his long legs out on either side of Roger.

“You mind, mate?” When he saw Roger shake his head and smile, Brian returned the smile. “Good. So… how is everything with your classes, Rog?”

The younger man’s smile faded a little as his thoughts trailed back to Liam. He felt his stomach give a twist as he remembered that day and he felt the happiness he had been feeling with Brian slowly dissipate. He looked down at his coffee distractedly.

“What is it, Rog?” He suddenly heard Brian ask in nearly a whisper.

“Huh?”

“You’ve had that look before, Roger. Something’s wrong… you can tell me, mate. I’m not Tim. I’m not going to judge you or up and leave. I’m your friend,” Brian searched the drummer’s conflicted eyes. “Please? Tell me?”

Roger bit his lip. There was more than one thing that was wrong. He went from biting his bottom lip to chewing on it nervously, which led to it bleeding, having forgotten that his father had broken it yesterday during their confrontation.

Brian set his coffee down and reached over for a tissue before he put it to Roger’s lip, holding it there as it bled. “You need to be more careful, mate. You just had stitches put in there. You don’t want to go back again, right?”

Roger shook his head, feeling his heart flutter again as he felt the other man’s fingers nonchalantly rest against his chin as he held the tissue to his lips. The two men listened to the rock music on the radio as they waited for the blood to let up. Once it did a few minutes later, Brian spoke up again.

“Rog? Hey, come on. Talk to me.”

He ran his tongue over the dried blood now and sighed heavily. “L-Liam and I… skipped class to hang out in his van a few days ago.”

Brian was quiet, searching his friend’s face as he waited for more answers but when Roger didn’t speak, he had to prod him.

“Okay, well… did something happen? Did you two…?” He trailed off.

Roger felt like running away now. He felt stupid. A lump formed in his throat and his stomach started to hurt from his anxiety. He shook his head, not looking Brian in the eye.

“I’m sorry, Roger… I’m not quite following. What happened? Did he...” Brian hesitated. “Did he hurt you?” The way that the older man said ‘hurt,’ though, Roger knew what he actually meant.

He thought back to that day and it only made his stomache pain worse.

“We… we started to make out, and it seemed okay… but when he started to take off his belt, I panicked. I… fucking _panicked_ , Bri,” Roger felt tears in his eyes now as he looked at his friend. As he said the words aloud, he realized what why he had panicked. As he looked at Brian, it was clear that the other man also realized why he had panicked as well.

“So he stopped?”

Roger shook his head. “No, not right away. It took a couple times but… I had to basically shove him off of me to get him to stop. He told me off and then finally got out of the van.”

The guitarist was visibly tensed.

“You did the right thing, Rog… by stopping him like that.”

Roger scoffed, shaking his head. “No, Bri. I didn’t, because I fucked everything up with him so bad because for a split second, I couldn’t separate him from my father when I heard that damn belt. What the hell is wrong with me?”

Brian took his friend’s drink and set it on the coffee table before he leaned forward and looked in his face. “Listen to me, Rog, nothing is wrong with you. Your father abused you your whole life, and he used that belt to hurt you. Your mind just went back there again when you heard his belt, and… for someone in your position, that can happen sometimes.”

The blonde winced slightly. “What do you mean, ‘someone in my position’?”

“I’m sorry, Roger… I probably shouldn’t have put it like that –"

“No,” Roger shook his hand dismissively now. “I’m… actually asking, what do you mean by all that? I’m not upset that you put it that way or anything. I’m really asking what you mean, Brian. I don’t understand.”

A sad look came over Brian’s face now, a look of heartbreak.

“Roger, what your father did to you, the abuse, gave you severe anxiety, panic attacks, and from what you told me happened in the van, it seems like you have some post-traumatic stress from it too. Hearing Liam undo his belt probably brought you back to a time when your father hurt you with his own. It made you panic, which isn’t your fault,” Brian explained.

Roger took this in. He hadn’t even thought about using his father’s abuse towards him as an excuse to push Liam away, but what Brian was saying now made sense. It explained a lot, it explained all of it. He swallowed hard and thought back to his time with Liam.

“I don’t think I want to get with him anymore,” Roger nearly whispered, feeling disappointment fill him up. “I doubt he’d want me back anyway.”

Brian reached out and placed a gentle hand on the drummer’s shoulder. “Anyone would be lucky to be with you, Roger. You’re a good person, even if you make mistakes now and then. I know you’re good.”

He hadn’t expected Brian’s words to affect him as much as they did. He felt the pain in his stomach disappear and be replaced with butterflies.

“You really think so?”

Brian chuckled and nodded. “I know so, Rog.”

“How do you know all that stuff about trauma and post-traumatic stress?” Roger asked after a couple beats, going back to his coffee again when he felt comfortable enough.

“I’ve taken a few psychology classes. I would’ve thought you would have taken more than me, though,” he shrugged, taking a drink of his own coffee before he glanced over at the clock.

Roger didn’t feel the need to say anything to this so he was quiet until he realized that they were both going to be late for classes. He looked at Brian and smirked. “I guess we should get going.”

“Right,” Brian stood up. “We still have a few minutes before either of us has to leave but in case one of us isn’t out here when the other is ready to leave… here you go, Rog,” he took out his wallet and laid some bills on the coffee table. “For cab fare there and back. I’m going to shower.”

Roger watched as the guitarist disappeared from the room and pocketed the money before he hurried into his room to get ready as well.

 

**…… .. ……… .. ………**

By the time Roger had gotten to his university, he was already feeling mentally exhausted. He sat through his class and when it finally ended, he was walking through the parking lot when he heard a familiar voice come from behind him.

“Roger! Wait up…”

He turned around and felt his heart clench when he saw Liam hurrying to catch up to him. “I just… want to apologize for what I said that day to you, in the van. I don’t know what happened, but I want to start over.”

“No,” Roger said automatically, before he could think twice about it.

“What?”

“You called me a tease because I wanted you to stop, and… you didn’t fucking stop, remember? I had to push you just to get you off of me. I can’t go through that again.”

He saw Liam’s brows knit in a mixture of he assumed was frustration and confusion. “But… I apologized, Rog… I thought we’d be all right now.”

Roger let out a laugh of disbelief now, somehow gaining confidence. “What the hell would make you think we’re all right? I can’t fucking trust you, Liam! All that shit you told me in the van… ‘You know you want this…’ that’s shit that rapists say! You realize that, don’t you?”

He saw Liam’s jaw clench.

“I guess it’d take one to know one, wouldn’t it, Roger?”

The accusation made the drummer’s veins be replaced with fire instead of blood now and before he knew it, he had practically speared Liam to the ground and had started to punch him over and over again, seeing red.

“Fuck you! I don’t rape women or men, you fucking prick!”

He didn’t know how it happened, or how much time had passed, but the next thing Roger knew, he found himself in the local city jail with Brian standing on the other side of the bars looking worriedly at him. He saw him move closer and then looked down at his hands and literally saw red on his knuckles, realizing now that his arm was out of the brace and it hurt more than ever.

He blinked and was taking shaky breaths, feeling fear filling up inside of him as he looked at his friend with wide eyes.

“W-What happened? How did I get in here?”

Brian searched his face. “What’s the last thing you remember, Rog?” Considering the circumstances, the guitarist was doing a great job of remaining calm and not blowing up at him.

He tried to think back.

“Liam and I were arguing, and… I remember punching him,” Roger answered thoughtfully, holding his sore shoulder painfully close to his body. “W-What happened, Bri? Oh god, did I…?” He trailed off, fearing the worst.

Brian shook his head and moved closer to the bars. “No, but you did enough damage to put him in the hospital, Roger. You’ll be lucky if you’re not expelled. What were you thinking?”

The blonde could answer that. He wasn’t thinking; he had just reacted instinctively. He remembered the anger now, the accusation and he felt sick with himself. He was dangerous. He belonged in here.

“I posted your bail with the rest of our last gig money,” Brian spoke softly. A guard suddenly came in and opened the door, motioning for Roger to get out of the cell. A part of him felt reluctant, but it’d be a waste of money if he didn’t walk out.

The two men silently signed papers on the way out and didn’t talk until the two of them had made it home. Roger looked at the clock: 9:00pm.

Roger felt terror now. _The last thing he remembered, it had been only noon. He had lost nine hours of his life that was now a blank in his mind. Nine goddamn hours._

What had happened in those nine hours?

Brian closed the door behind them and turned to look at Roger. “I don’t even know where to begin right now. Do you honestly not remember anything after punching him?”

Roger tried again to think back but nothing was coming back to him. He shook his head.

“Apparently, you broke his nose, and a few other bones in his face, his eye is swollen shut now, he has a broken wrist, and he’s missing a couple teeth. There was so much blood though that someone at the university called the police and they picked you up on assault charges. They brought you here but you didn’t tell them to call me until forty-five minutes ago,” Brian tucked a lock of hair behind his ear to get it out of his face as he looked at Roger.

“A-Are you angry at me?”

Brian’s firm, disapproving demeanor lost its confidence and he sighed in defeat. “No, but Christ, Roger! I _am_ worried about you! You blacked out… you ended up in jail, and you could be expelled from uni… this is serious.”

Roger nodded, not about to doubt that. His memory loss was a good example of how serious this was. He could have killed Liam, and been charged with worse. He looked down and saw his hands were shaking. He swallowed hard and looked away.

Brian saw this and placed a hand on Roger’s back before he led him over to the kitchen sink. “Go ahead and wash your hands. I’ll bandage you up again and we can head to bed.”

The drummer was hesitant at first but nodded before he did so and then realized that he didn’t feel a buffer between the welts on his back and his shirt anymore; the force of his fight must have made the gauze fall off on his back.

He was half dazed still as he felt Brian lead him into the bathroom and carefully sit him down on the closed toilet seat, taking off his shirt. He felt the coldness of antiseptic cream and the hotness of his wounds create an odd sensation through him but he stayed still and let Brian patch him back up.

“What were you two arguing about?”

Brian’s voice seemed to echo in the quiet room. Roger looked down at his hands again.

“I-I was telling him how rapists say what he said to me in the van a few days ago and… then he accused me of being a rapist myself… fuck!” Roger kicked the sink cabinet.

“Roger!” Brian exclaimed now. “A little cooperation here would be appreciated, yeah? Just sit still, please.”

“Sorry.”

He felt Brian finish sterilizing and bandaging his back up again before he went to wash his hands in the bathroom sink. He glanced over at him.

“Have you?”

Roger looked at him testily. “Have I, what?”

“You know, raped anyone? I haven’t known you all that long, Roger. I don’t know everything about you, your entire past, or all your relationships. If you have, then I think it’s important that you tell me now.”

Roger scoffed and stood up.

“No, for fuck’s sake, Bri… I haven’t raped anyone. Everyone that I’ve been with have been more than willing. Liam’s just trying to take the heat off of himself and put it all on me. That’s what this is,” Roger searched Brian’s eyes and saw him nod now in belief and understanding.

“We’ll figure this out, Rog. Together. Maybe… we can help you somehow, but… for now, let’s get some sleep. It’ll do you good.”

He led Roger to the bedroom and helped him get settled into bed before he lay down himself. He turned on his side so he was looking at his friend and saw Roger laying similarly, despite his arm.

“Are you scared of me?” Roger asked him, fearing the answer.

“No,” Brian said right away. “You’re my best mate. I could never be scared of you, Roger. I’m just confused about what’s happening to you, and I want to make it all go away. I want to help you. Promise me until we can figure all of this out, you’ll stay out of trouble? You won’t go near Liam again?”

Roger nodded. The last thing he wanted to do was end up back in jail with a blank memory again. “I promise.”

“Good,” Brian placed a hand on Roger’s arm now and patted his shoulder. “Get some sleep, mate. We’ll talk more in the morning. I don’t have class tomorrow so I’m all yours.”

Roger nodded, feeling selfish again for feeling grateful.

_All yours._

But he wasn’t, not really. Not when there were more pressing issues at hand. Roger had caused all of this: Brian’s uncertainty, his frustration, his worry, Liam’s injuries, his own blackout, the blood on his hands… it was all too many questions without enough answers.

He felt guilt swallowing him up whole, but not so much guilt for Liam being in the hospital. He was feeling guilt for how he was making Brian feel. He didn’t want the guitarist to worry about him like this, or pity him.

He wanted the other man to love him. To kiss him, hold him.

But maybe that was asking too much right now, not when things were this chaotic at the moment. Just another thing Roger had done to screw things up.

He forced his eyes closed and turned around on his other side so Brian wouldn’t see the tears that were sliding down his cheeks now.


	6. broken band

**.     .     .**

Over the next few weeks, Roger tried his best to lay low since the incident with Liam. He did his homework, went to class, took exams, studied, kept himself out of fights… he did everything Brian told him to do. He had almost forgotten about what he had done to Liam until the guitarist occasionally, and casually, brought it up in conversation.

They were undeniably grateful though when a friend of Liam’s came by and told them that Liam had no intent on pressing charge against him. Roger figured that he didn’t want to explain what he and the drummer had been doing in the van in the first place.

Roger’s wounds were at the end stage of healing when he had gotten out of class and was heading towards the street when he saw Tim and his car pull up to him.

“Get in, Roger.”

The drummer tensed. “No, piss off.” He started down the sidewalk but saw Tim following him.

“Get in. I’ll even take you home and then you’ll never see me again. Promise.”

Roger sighed heavily and walked over before he leaned inside the car to look at him. “Say what you have to say so we can fast forward this bit and I’ll never have to see you again even sooner.”

Tim gave him a dark look that sent chills down his spine. “Get in, Roger, or you’ll see me every day after class until the end of the semester, and even after that. I just want to talk, but let it go on the record that I don’t normally talk to poofs, yeah? Now get in.”

The homophobic slur made Roger’s skin crawl and he clenched his fist before he lightly punched the car door and got inside the car against his better judgement. He didn’t want to see Tim again and if this could be the last time he did see him, then the sooner, the better.

“Talk,” he ordered, putting his aviators down.

Tim pulled away from the university and started driving in the direction of Brian and Roger’s flat. He was quiet for a few minutes before he lit a cigarette for himself and took a drag before he offered one to Roger who waved him off and lit a cigarette of his own instead.

 “You need to convince Brian to let me back into the band.”

Roger raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief. “Oh, I do, do I?” He asked a bit bitterly. “You still have to convince me to let that happen, and that isn’t going to happen, Tim.”

“Jesus, Rog, since when did you grow a backbone?”

He looked over and watched as Tim chuckle and take another drag before Roger exhaled. “Let me out here.”

“Don’t be an idiot… just hear me out, will you?”

Roger was reluctant but he looked at him. “Then talk! Without the side commentary.”

Tim cleared his throat before he glanced over at Roger. “You both still need me. You need a lead singer and a bass player and I’m the only one who can do both. The gig money’s going to run out soon, and you need to pay rent in another week. You’re not going to find someone else in that time.”

“We haven’t been really worried about that. We’ve both been busy with classes,” Roger shrugged. If he was being honest with himself, he was pretty worried about how tight money was at the moment and the thought of the rent coming up was sending Roger into mild, random panic attacks.

“Exactly, which is why you need to do another gig. Let me back in for a last show together and then you don’t have to see me again.”

Roger swallowed hard. “What’s in it for you, Tim? After the rent money, there won’t be enough for the three of us to put in our pockets…” Then, realization hit him. He rested his sunglasses on top of his head and looked at him. “You want to pocket the rest. You want the money.”

Tim rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m basically homeless after you both kicked me out! I’m sleeping out of my car. Just give me a little money and I’ll be on my way, Roger. I’ll be out of your lives forever. I just need some money to get me there,”

The offer was tempting, to never see Tim again. Roger scoffed though, and put his glasses back down on his nose before he looked out the window just as they pulled up to the flat.

“Just promise me you’ll talk to him.”

Roger ran a hand through his hair and watched as it started to rain. He finished his cigarette and put it out in the small ashtray in the car. “Fine. I’ll talk to him, but call me another slur again and you can forget it.”

“Fine. Deal… thanks, Rog.”

Roger sighed and opened his door before he slammed it, ignoring Tim’s thanks as he unlocked the door and let himself inside the flat before locking it again behind him.

He still heard Tim’s words in his mind and felt panic floating around in his chest. He took off his jacket and took off his shoes before he started to race.

_The rent was due soon._

_Brian and him were both almost out of pocket cash._

_They could get evicted. The power could go out. The gas._

_He’d have to deal with being around Tim one more night._

All of these thoughts made Roger start to tear up with panic and terror. He wasn’t sure how long he had been pacing for but when he turned around again, he saw Brian walk through the door, hanging up his damp jacket after locking the door behind him.

“Roger? What is it?”

The drummer took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together. “T-Tim.”

He saw Brian tense this time and watched him walk over to him. “Tim? You saw him today? Did he hurt you?” He looked Roger up and down for any signs of fighting or injury.

“N-No… he… he brought me here. He t-talked,” Roger stammered as his voice shook. He felt dizzy; oxygen couldn’t reach his lungs as he continued to panic.

The other man helped him sit down on the couch and placed his hands on either side of Roger’s arms gently. He searched his face. “You need to breathe, all right, Rog? We’re going to talk this out but you’re going to send yourself into a panic attack. In… and out,” Brian demonstrated, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

Roger mimicked his motions and it took several minutes but was able to find his breath again. The panic was still there but it wasn’t squeezing against his ribcage anymore; instead, it was just burrowed under the surface of his chest. He wiped away the tears that had run down his cheeks.

Brian was gently caressing the drummer’s back comfortingly. “Do you think you can talk about it now?” Roger nodded, so he continued. “All right… so… start from the top, mate. Whenever you’re ready.”

The blonde nodded again and took a shaky breath. “I was coming out of class and he was at the curb. H-He told me to get in, so… I did, and he started driving. He was s-saying how we should do one more gig, with him. After we take the rent money, he wants the rest.”

Brian looked at him in surprise. “No fucking way,” he laughed in disbelief. “He’s not getting anything after what he said about you. He’s absolutely mental if he thinks we’re letting him back in, even just for one gig, he’s insane!”

Roger put his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes before he looked at him. “He said if we let him play for one more, he’ll leave and we won’t see him again. He’ll just take the money and run, after the rent money we take, I mean.”

Brian looked at him skeptically. “You really believe him, Rog? Has he given you any reason to trust him?”

The younger man knew that he had a point, but the offer had been so tempting that it had been hard to not even think about it. He looked down at his hands and shrugged.

“We need the money, Bri. Rent’s coming up, we’re almost out of pocket money.”

Brian sighed and leaned back but still looked at him. “What good would that do if we’re giving all of it to him anyway? Roger, we wouldn’t have any money left. After rent, that’s it. He’s just trying to screw us into the ground, mate.”

“I don’t know, Brian! It seems like he’d be doing us a favor if we didn’t have to see him ever again!”

The guitarist looked like he was trying his best to be patient with his friend. “The only favor he’s doing is for himself. I know it’s tempting, Rog, but… we’re kind of stuck right now. We just need to wait it out until we find another singer and a bassist. We’ll be all right, though, mate. We don’t need to let him take our money.”

Roger shook his head. He would rather just let Tim take the money if it meant that they could be rid of the other man. That’s all he wanted. He bit his lip before forcing himself to look at Brian.

“I think we should do it. Just one show and he’ll be out of our lives forever, Bri. As long as we pay rent, we’ll be fine without money for a while.”

Brian looked hesitant. “What about groceries? Petrol? Cab fare? Those things cost money, Roger.”

“So we figure something out,” Roger threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “Just give him _something_ , Brian! I don’t want to see him anymore! I don’t want to even fucking hear his voice or see his car. You can give him whatever money leftover that you’d give me. I don’t care. Just let him have it!”

The other man looked worriedly at him but he also looked like he was at the end of his rope. He moved his hair out of his face and leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs.

“Is that really what you want, Rog? I mean, do you want him out and away from us that badly?” Brian searched his eyes.

“What’s the answer that will get you to agree to do it?”

He sighed. “Please, just answer the question,” he pleaded calmly.

The drummer sighed. “Fine. Yes, Brian. I want him gone that badly. I’m sick of thinking he’s going to pop up again. I’m sick of him being a homophobic asshole. I just want him to go away and not have to deal with him again.”

Brian was quiet for a long time, as if he was thinking. He finally nodded and looked at Roger. “All right, Rog. One gig, we’ll give him a little money, keep the rest for ourselves and then he’ll be gone forever. You’re sure you’ll be okay with doing this, playing another show with him? Even after everything he’s said about you?”

He eagerly nodded now, grateful that Brian finally conceded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine for a couple hours. We’ll pay him after the show, then that’s it, right?”

The older man nodded. “Right. That’s it… I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable with it. I’ll call him later and hash out the details. You won’t have to worry about him even coming near you, though.”

Roger felt an odd sense of relief. He could put up with Tim for a couple hours. He’d deal with being called every slur in the book if it meant he wouldn’t have to see that prick again. He felt his panic diminish and fade away entirely before he stood up.

“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow, Bri.”

“Yeah, of course. Goodnight, Rog.”

“Brian?” Roger looked back at him. “Thank you, for doing this for me.”

The guitarist gave him a warm smile and nodded. Roger smiled back and turned around again before he disappeared into his room and crawled into bed, leaving the other man to study in the living room.

 

**……………………. … …........... .. ……………….**

Roger woke up feeling lighter than he had been before. He still felt guilt eating away at him, though. He rolled over in bed and rubbed his eyes before he finally dragged himself out of bed and walked into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee.

“Sleep well?”

Roger glanced over at him after taking a sip and shrugged. He was quiet for a while before he met his friend’s eyes. “I’m thinking about going down and seeing Liam at the hospital. Maybe… apologize to him?”

Brian wet his lips and searched the drummer’s face. “It’s a noble act, Rog, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Roger leaned against the counter, his brows knitted.

Brian tapped his chin thoughtfully before walking over towards him and also leaned against the counters next to him. “His friends and family will be there and they’ll harass you with questions that you won’t be able to answer, Rog. I know you have good intentions, but I think you should just stay away from Liam, at least until all this shit with him blows over.”

Roger nodded and sighed, looking down at his coffee. As much as he did want to talk to Liam, he knew that Brian was right. Maybe it would do him more harm than good.

“Did you talk to Tim last night?” Roger asked, his happiness a bit heavier now.

The other man nodded. “Yeah, I did. It’s all settled. He booked us a gig for this Friday night. Does that sound all right with you?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” Roger nodded. “Is he going to meet us there then?”

Brian nodded again. “Yeah, I warned him to stay away from you and only ask song and setlist related questions. If he has anything else to say, he can say it to me.”

_He didn't deserve someone as amazing as Brian in his life._

Roger’s thoughts trailed back to Liam and then guilt started to build up inside of him again when he looked over at Brian. “I’m sorry, that you can’t be friends with Tim anymore because of me.”

The guitarist looked over at him with a surprised look. “What do you mean? I don’t want to be friends with him, mate. He treated you like absolute shit; why on _earth_ would I want to be friends with him still?”

Roger shrugged, the guilt not dissipating very much. “So we could have more money. We wouldn’t be worried about being broke every week. It’s because of me that we’re not a band anymore. If I had just… sucked it up, and ignored him, maybe we’d still be a band and we wouldn’t have to worry about money. It’s my fault, man.”

Brian leaned in closer to him and he forced him to meet his eyes. “Hey, Roger, this isn’t your fault. It’s _his._ He screwed this up, not you. We never would’ve worked out with him being the way he is. It’s bad for everyone involved, yeah?”

The drummer reluctantly nodded and sighed before he poured his coffee down the sink and lit up a cigarette instead, deciding the nicotine would help him more than the caffeine. He was quiet as he smoked, feeling like a waste of space.

It was a few minutes before he realized that Brian had said something.

“Hmm? Sorry, what?”

The older man finished his coffee and set it down. “You’re going to be late for class if you don’t get ready.”

“Oh,” Roger shook his head and finished his cigarette before he lit up another. “I’m not going today.”

His friend was giving him a disappointed look. “You have to go, Rog. You don’t want to flunk out and be nowhere in this band with me,” he smirked playfully.

Roger gave a weak chuckle. “Are you joking? I’d rather go nowhere with you than have a job I despise.”

Brian laughed and shook his head. “All right, then. So what do you want to do today? We can’t sit around and chain smoke all day. We should do something productive, right?”

The blonde scratched his temple and took a drag from his cigarette. “We could do some song writing?”

Brian smiled now and nodded once.

“Yeah, all right. Let’s song write, then. I’ll get a pen and paper.”

Roger and Brian spent the whole day writing various song lyrics for several different working ideas for songs, taking breaks only for the bathroom and to eat. By the evening, Roger had almost forgotten about his own inner turmoil when the phone rang. He looked up at Brian who jumped up.

“I’ve got it,” he called dibs as he hurried over to the phone and answered it, clearing his throat. “May/Taylor residence…”

_“Brian, it’s me.”_

Roger looked over and saw his friend turn away from him to talk to the other person on the end.

“What do you want, Tim?” Brian asked in a whisper. “I told you we’d see you at the show on Friday. There’s no reason for you to call us.”

_“I know, I just wanted to make nice. Just put him on.”_

“No. Goodbye, Tim. We’ll see you in a few days.”

 _“This is why our band is broken up now, Brian! Because of you standing up for that fucking –_ "

Brian turned back to face the wall. “Yes, goodbye now.”

Roger watched him hang up angrily and he looked down at the seventh cigarette in between his fingers. “Was that him? Tim?”

Brian sighed and tucked a lock of hair behind his hair. “What gave it away?” He forced a small smile. “Don’t worry about him, Rog. He’s just a prick.”

Roger kicked the coffee table in frustration.

“Roger!” The older man scolded.

“Sorry,” he apologized, standing up and throwing the notepad full of lyrics on the couch. “I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough of Tim and enough of today. We can’t do anything without him interrupting. Fucking wanker…”

Brian stood up. “Rog, come back. He’s not going to ring again! We need to finish this song.”

“You finish it. I’m going to bed.”

Roger felt instantly sorry as he closed the door to the bedroom and started to get changed. He knew he shouldn’t have been so cross with the guitarist, but he felt ripped at the seams between the rage he felt for Tim as well as his father, and the guilt he felt over Liam. The anger was spilling over and he was taking it out on Brian now.

He put his cigarette out and buried himself under the covers before he looked over at the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. He didn’t really need them, but he wanted to have a dreamless sleep without seeing Tim being in there either. He reached over and spilled a couple of sleeping pills into his palm before swallowing it with a glass of water and put the covers over his head.

Before he realized it, he had fallen asleep.


	7. offers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I'm writing these chapters too fast for anyone! I just really am into writing them and I'm eager to put them up.
> 
> EDIT: Also, I apologize for extra words or typos. I don't have a beta so this is all me to blame for things.

**.    .   .**

Roger reluctantly went to classes the last few days of the week, but found himself dreading seeing Tim again Friday evening when he came back home. The air had gotten cooler during the day and the night wasn’t any warmer, even though it was still early September.

He made a beeline for the bathroom to shower and get ready for the gig. He had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on the door. He wrapped the towel around his waist and opened the door to see Brian.

“I thought you weren’t going to be home for another half hour…”

Brian shrugged. “I was able to get out of class early. Anyway, I wanted to shower too before the show. Almost done?” He asked, already taking off his shirt to save time.

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, moving out of the way so Brian could enter, but then felt a cool hand on his warm skin.

“Hey, are you okay still, with doing this thing? If you’re having second thoughts, it’s last minute but we can cancel. I just want you to be comfortable, Rog.”

The drummer nodded and searched his friend’s eyes. “I’m fine, Bri. Really. I want to do this. If you keep questioning it, though, we’re never going to get there, so go on, then.” He motioned towards the shower.

Brian let out a chuckle and gently shut the door in Roger’s face before he soon heard the shower turn on. Roger walked to their room and started to dry off and get dressed. He was lost in his own thoughts and the sound of the water running in the pipes in the flat as he got changed.

_This would be the last time he’d see or talk to Tim. After tonight, he could forget about all the bullshit between them for good._

That would be worth it alone to be broke for a few weeks until him and Brian could find two people to replace him in the band. He didn’t even care how long it took them to find a replacement; it’d be worth it just to not hear any more homophobic slurs hurled at him anymore.

He pulled on a pair of bell bottom jeans and an open shirt before he started to brush his hair quickly and put on socks and shoes. He turned around to see Brian already getting dressed behind him. The two men locked eyes and Roger felt a shiver run through him as he felt the butterflies creeping up again.

“Err… Roger, there’s something I want to tell you.”

Roger straightened his spine, the fluttering in his stomach being joined by an excitement. He searched the guitarist’s face. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

Brian looked oddly nervous, but he was smirking. “I’m officially with Chrissy. I mean, before we were kind of just… messing about, but she’s my girlfriend now. It feels right, you know, Rog? She feels right.”

Roger’s smile faltered, feeling the butterflies all die inside of him now. He tried to look supportive still, though, even though he felt like dying as well.

“Yeah, t-that’s great, Bri. I’m happy for you guys.” Roger dried his hair of excess water before he brushed it again and turned his back so he could spray a little cologne on himself. He didn’t let Brian see how upset he was feeling, his head spinning.

He wished Brian hadn’t told him before their show; how was he supposed to focus on anything else now? Roger hadn’t realized it before, but he felt stronger emotions for his friend than he had felt for Liam, or anyone before.

And now being his anything was not only illegal, it was impossible.

“Thanks, Rog,” Brian smiled, seemingly not noticing the drummer’s reluctance or able to see his heart breaking. “She makes me happy. And she said she’d be at the gig tonight.”

The younger man forced another smile and cleared his throat to hide the fact that he was choking up. He grabbed his jacket. “Well, hurry up and get changed or else she’ll never get to watch us…”

“Right.”

The two men finished getting ready and Brian drove the two of them to the smallish venue to get set up. They set up their equipment and realized they still had half an hour before they had to go on stage. Brian had walked away to talk to his new girlfriend before the gig and Roger made his way to the bar to get a drink.

He downed it quickly, grateful that the band of the night playing were able to get limited free drinks. He asked the bartender to refill his whiskey and lit a cigarette when he heard a familiar voice.

“Wow, drinking already? Is it really that bad to see me again?”

Roger heard a laugh and looked over at him with a dark look as he took a drag. “Why do you think we’re paying you off so we don’t have to see you again? To answer your question, yes, it is that bad.”

Tim nodded to the bartender to get him a drink as well. He leaned against Roger closer than the younger man felt comfortable with. He looked over at him. “I appreciate you guys giving me one last chance to play with you both, but I still think you’re making a mistake breaking up the band like this, mate.”

Roger took another drag from his cigarette and finished his second drink. “We’re not breaking up the hand. We’re replacing you. We’re not done making music; we’re just done with your homophobic bullshit. There’s no place for it here.”

Tim scoffed and smirked as he rolled his eyes, biting his tongue. He was quiet for a while. “You’re disgusting, Roger,” he brought his voice to a low hush now. “You sicken me. It’s not natural, and more so, it’s illegal. Did you know I could have you arrested for that shit? Right now, before the show, but I need the money, so I won’t do that.”

Roger felt rage pooling in his veins. He blow smoke in his face impatiently now and watched as Tim waved it away. “Wow, Tim! You’re some kind of saint. Really, what do I owe you for not calling the police on me? Especially for something I haven’t even done yet!”

Roger heard someone clearing their voice to make their presence known. He didn’t need to look over to know it had been Brian.

“Everything all right here, gentlemen?” His voice was thick with sternness as he looked mostly at Tim.

“Yeah,” Tim answered in an almost too cheerful tone. “I was just talking to Rog how much I’m going to miss the both of you –"

Brian sighed and put a hand up to make the other man stop talking. He took a step close to him. “You don’t need to kiss our ass. Just go up there, sing the songs, we’ll give you your money, and then we don’t want to see you again. Do you understand?”

Tim put his hands up in surrender and nodded but he had a sly smirk on his face that made Roger nauseous. He started up to the stage, followed by Brian and Roger.

Brian helped Roger get up on stage first before he took his place by his guitar and looked out in the crowd at Chrissy before he smiled and winked at her. Roger looked over at Brian and felt a green ball of jealousy twisting inside of him before he felt the guilt again.

Was he a horrible person for wishing that Brian could look at _him_ that way?

_He didn’t deserve love._

He looked over at Tim and felt rage. Roger took a deep breath to try and calm himself down as he half-listened to him as he introduced Smile. Two hours. That’s all they had to do.

Since they only had six songs, they alternated between original songs and covers but eventually ran out of original songs so they had to rely on the covers to finish up their set. Despite their lack of original songs, the crowd seemed to enjoy themselves.

Roger was glad when they finished up the last one, slamming on the drum to end the song. He wiped his forehead, his skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat. The crowd cheered and clapped as the three band members got off stage.

Brian leaned into Roger’s ear. “I’m going to go get our money. Try and not get into trouble, yeah?” There was a playfulness in his voice but Roger could also knew he was being serious.

The blonde nodded, and watched as Brian skittered through the crowd. He needed air; the whole room was suffocating between the smell of weed and sweat and cigarette smoke.

Roger was on his way to the front door when he felt a soft hand grab his arm to stop him. He turned and looked to see a woman in her early 20s looking at him. He was gay but he couldn’t deny that she was beautiful.

“You were great! Can we go somewhere to talk in private?” There was a hint of suggestion in her voice.

Roger gave her a polite smile. “Sorry, I’m a bit tired. Maybe you should go talk to the guitarist! You might just up his alley.”

She looked disappointed but smiled weakly at him before she walked away from him and towards Brian. Roger knew that hadn’t been a fair thing of him to do when he knew that Brian was with Chrissy now, but he was still angry and bitter, jealous and guilty, all rolled into one.

He walked out and lit another cigarette, taking a long drag from it. He smoked for a while, wondering what was taking Brian so long when he heard footsteps and looked up to see Tim.

Roger took another drag, hating being alone with the man. He swallowed hard and then saw him walking towards the drummer.

“Do you think you’re better than me?”

_Fuck._

Roger shrugged. “I don’t make fun of gay people, so in a way, yes. I do think I’m better than you,” he answered honestly.

Tim gave a sound of disgust and moved closer to him challengingly. “Well you’re not better. You’re just a fag, and that’s all you’ll ever be. You think you two will get far without me?” He let out a short laugh. “You’ll be just as broke as me! You’ll have to fuck other poofs and you still won’t be anything more than a fag.”

Roger stood up from where he had been sitting and looked up at Tim who was still a good few inches taller than himself. “Say that again.”

“What? _Fag_? Or _poof_?”

Roger flicked his cigarette at Tim’s chest and nearly laughed when he saw it singe into the fabric before falling to the ground. He quickly found his anger again though and threw a punch at Tim’s face, watching it connect with his jaw.

“You fucking prick!” Tim exclaimed before he threw Roger against the wall and punched his nose.

The drummer groaned in pain, feeling blood running down his face now. He was about to fight back when he felt himself be thrown to the ground and then kicked in the ribs. Roger felt the wind escape his lungs and then heard footsteps.

“Hey! What the fuck?” _Brian_.

He coughed but moved onto his hands and knees to catch his breath again and looked up to see Brian hit Tim, once, twice, and then moved away from the other man to move over to Roger.

“Jesus, Roger! Are you all right?”

He nodded, still coughing as he tried to find oxygen.

Brian took out his money and counted it out before he threw a wad of cash at Tim. He watched as he scooped it up quickly and counted it and glared at Brian. “Are you fucking kidding me? There’s only a hundred pounds here! That won’t even get me out of the city!”

The guitarist glared back at him. “Take it or leave it, Tim. If you don’t want it, I’ll gladly take it back.”

Tim pocketed it and looked between the two of them. “You both will regret doing this. Just wait and see!” He walked inside and came back out a few moments later with his bass and got into his car before he drove off angrily, tires squealing.

Brian turned his attention to his friend now and examined him for any other injuries. When he put his hands on Roger’s ribs to help him stand back up, he didn’t miss it when he saw the drummer wince and groan in pain.

At that point, of course, Chrissy came running out and over to Brian to make sure he was okay.

“He’s hurt,” he spoke to her, as if Roger wasn’t even there. “I’ll have to take him back to the flat. Can you get home okay?”

_Fuck, Brian was even worried about her getting home safely after she’s been drinking or smoking. He was so goddamn perfect._

“Yeah, sure. I’ll call you. Just take care of him.”

Brian pecked her lips quickly before he helped Roger get into his van and into the passenger seat. He lifted up the drummer’s shirt to examine his injuries. “Can you breathe okay now, Rog?”

Roger waved him away and put his shirt back down. “I’m fine,” he sighed and looked at him. “Just go home with her. You know you want to.”

Brian shook his head. “You’re more important to me right now. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

He nodded, feeling the fight leaving him. He ran his hands through his hair and hugged his arms around his body. Roger just wanted to go to bed and forget about this whole day and night. Could he just sleep away the next year?

“How much did we get tonight?” He asked, changing the subject from himself.

Brian glanced at him worriedly but started the van up. “About 700 quid. We gave a hundred of that to Tim, and we owe 400 for rent, so that’s two hundred for the two of us, spending money that has to last until we can get another gig.”

Roger’s heart sank. That wasn’t very much at all. That wouldn’t last until their next gig; that was barely enough to live off of.

Brian must have heard his worries because he turned to Roger. “Don’t worry, mate. We’ll get through this. We’ll make it last, yeah?” Roger nodded but wasn’t entirely convinced. Then suddenly, Brian opened his van door. “Shit, I forgot our stuff. Stay right here… I’ll be quick and we can go home.”

“Okay.” Roger watched him shut the door close and rested his head against the cool window. He fought to keep his eyes but at some point, he fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he saw Brian shut the van off in front of their flat.

“Good timing, we’re home. How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” the drummer sighed, feeling sore and still tasting blood. He needed to reset his nose to help stop the bleeding. He slowly opened the door and groaned as he half jumped, half fell out of the passenger side.

Brian hurried over and helped Roger inside the flat before locking it behind them. He led him into the bathroom, helping him to sit down on the closed toilet seat before he started to clean up his face. He looked at the younger man nervously.

“I don’t know how to fix your nose, Roger. We should’ve gone to the hospital.”

Roger shook his head. “I’ve taken a few courses in first aid. I’ve had broken noses before, anyway. I know how to fix them.” He positioned his palms in a pyramid formation on the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before he quickly pushed upwards, hearing the bones crack back into place again.

He let out a short cry of pain but was satisfied that he could no longer taste blood.

He saw Brian cringe as he watched him heal his own broken nose. “Your ribs… he might have broken one of them in your row.”

Roger shook his head. “They’re not broken. I can still breathe all right and they don’t hurt that much. He stood back up and looked over at the guitarist who still had concern and worry in his eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The other man sighed and shook his head before he gently pushed him out of the bathroom and headed towards the bedroom with him.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Rog. He could’ve really hurt you.”

Roger started to change into his pajamas bottoms, not bothering to put a shirt on to save him the pain in his ribs. “I’m fine, Bri. Really. I’m just glad that he’s gone. I don’t want even want to think about that asshole anymore, all right?”

“Yeah, okay,” Brian nodded as he climbed into bed.

The blonde looked over at him as he lay on his side and saw unspoken words behind Brian’s deep blue eyes and he felt his stomach twist. “What? What is it now?”

“Nothing. Just… get some sleep.”

He knew it wasn’t nothing. He knew there was something Brian wanted to say but he was afraid how Roger was going to react. He couldn’t sleep knowing that there was something unspoken between them. He didn’t care what it was; he needed to know.

“No, tell me. You know all my secrets. I think it’s fair that you don’t keep any from me either.”

Brian swallowed hard and searched his friend’s eyes cautiously. “I know you just moved in, but… with things getting serious between Chrissy and I, she wants me to move into her flat.”

Roger felt like the guitarist had just detonated a bomb in his stomach and felt the shrapnel from it shoot into his heart a million times over. “Oh,” was all he managed to say, feeling like he was here but also not here at the same time.

“Oh? I tell you something like this, and your reaction is ‘oh?’ There must be more you want to say on the topic.”

Roger felt sick, heartbroken, panicked. He wanted to scream and yell, and punch walls until his knuckles were bloody, but he knew none of that would change anything. He tried to find words instead.

“Err… why? I mean… what about rent? Wasn’t the whole reason we did this gig was to get more money to afford another month’s rent?”

_What about me?_

Brian furrowed his brows. “I thought we did this to help get rid of Tim?”

He had a point, but the rent had undoubtedly been the next best reason for doing the show. Roger’s mind started racing. Where was he going to stay now? He was going to be alone. He wasn’t going to go back to his father’s house, not after what he did to him last time.

No fucking way.

He’d die first before he went back.

He was going to be homeless. Roger ran a hand through his hair thoughtfully as he tried to swallow the black hole of panic and terror he was feeling. “So… where do I go, then? I won’t be able to afford to stay here, will I?”

Brian wet his lips and searched Roger’s face. “I was thinking… you’d move in with both of us. It’s a three bedroom flat in a relatively nice section of town. I figured you could room with us. Living here is just too expensive. We’d be fucked if we couldn’t find both a bass player and a singer in time before the following month’s rent.”

Roger felt even more nauseous at the thought of staying with Brian and his girlfriend. This had to be some kind of cruel punishment for something he did before. He loved the guitarist and he was sure Chrissy was a nice woman, but he couldn’t stay with both of them and keep his feelings to himself, and that’d be the only way that Brian would be happy with her.

Roger didn’t want to mess that up for either of them. Brian deserved happiness.

_He didn’t deserve anything good. He didn’t deserve love._

“T-Thanks, but… I’ll go flat hunting and maybe pick up a job somewhere. Even with three bedrooms, the flat would still be crowded with the three of us. I’ll find somewhere else.”

The drummer’s answer surprised Brian, as if he had expected Roger to jump on the opportunity to live with them.

“Roger, there’s plenty of room for all of us.  I’m just trying to make the transition as easy as possible for you, mate. I’ve already talked it over with her and she’s more than happy to have you there,” the older man persisted.

He curled up into the blankets and shook his head, feeling like he was such a burden on Brian.

“I don’t want to, Bri. Really, it’s fine. I’m really tired. I just want to go to sleep.”

He turned around on his other side now, ignoring the pain in his ribs again. He couldn’t look at him anymore or else he was afraid he might cave and accept the offer. That was the last thing he wanted to do though.

He took a shaky breath and forced his eyes shut tightly to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. He wouldn’t let them this time. He had to stop being such a baby when things didn’t go his way; it was fucking ridiculous.

“Goodnight, Roger,” Brian spoke softly, his voice sounding hollow now.

“Night.”

Roger wrapped his own arms around his body tightly, as if it was the only way he could hold himself together now. It took a few hours but at some point, Roger felt his mind finally shut off and he dozed off.


	8. friends will be friends

**.     .     .**

 

Roger was bound and determined to try and keep Brian here as long as possible. He couldn’t stop the guitarist from moving his clothes out at the very least, though. He watched him leave with a box and he felt panic and heartbreak curl up in his chest.

They had put up fliers around both their universities a few days ago for a singer and a bassist. Now it was a waiting game, and all Roger could think about was how he had to go flat searching for somewhere somewhat cheaper.

He had just come back home after finding a decent sized two bedroom flat with a small kitchen and a small bathroom when he heard the house phone ring.

Roger rushed over to it quickly and picked it up. “Roger-May residence,” he greeted tiredly.

_“Hello, I’m calling about the fliers I’ve seen around campus, about the need for a lead singer for your band.”_

“Oh, right,” Roger rubbed his eyes, remembering about the need to build their band back up again. “Uhh, right. What’s your name? I’ll write it down with your number and Brian can call you back.”

_“The name’s Freddie, Freddie Mercury, and I have another friend who’s also interested in playing in your band, but I was thinking instead of leaving a number, we could actually meet you somewhere for drinks."_

Roger thought this over. _There was two of them._ What if this was just a trick? What if they were actually friends with Tim and heard what happened to him? He knew it was wrong of Roger to be so paranoid, but he couldn’t help it.

What if they were legit, though? If there really were two of them, then they could get a band together for real.

_“Hello? Darling?”_

Roger cleared his throat, bringing himself back to reality. “Sorry, umm… yeah, drinks sound good. When and where would you guys like to meet up?”

_“How about the Speakeasy? Does that sound all right with you? It’s closer to us, if you don’t mind. I have classes during the day today, along with my friend, John, and I know it’s last minute, but I was thinking we would get together this evening around seven, if that works for you two.”_

Roger nodded, but then remembered that Freddie couldn’t see him. “Yeah, that sounds good. We’ll see you both there.”

_“Excellent! Have a lovely day.”_

“You too,” he hung up and ran his hands through his hair. He glanced at the clock. He needed to get to class.

Roger felt his heart sink, though when he remembered he didn’t have any money. He looked around and then found a couple bills on the counter along with a note. He pocked the money before reading it:

_Rog,  
   Some money to get you to class today and tomorrow. Won’t be home tomorrow, spending the next couple days with Chrissy. Here is a number to reach me. I’ll see you soon._

 

Roger ran his hand through his hair as he noticed a telephone number on the paper in the older man’s handwriting. It had been super last minute but if these guys were the real deal, then they could start playing again and earning money again, and the faster, the better.

He called the number and wasn’t surprised when he reached Chrissy, but decided to leave a message.

“Yeah, it’s Roger. When he comes home tonight, can you tell him he needs to go to the Speakeasy around seven, and to meet me there tonight?”

_“Okay, Roger. I’ll tell him.”_

“Cheers,” he hung up again, feeling his head spinning. Making up schedules wasn’t something he was used to doing; that was usually Brian’s job. He didn’t like being responsible for meeting up with people, especially ones he didn’t know.

He grabbed his bag and caught a cab outside before he headed towards his university and when he got out, he reluctantly walked inside the building. Once he had sat down at his seat, he let his mind trail off and ignored every other word the professor was saying.

He was glad when the class was over and had started out of the building a few hours later when he felt a hand on his wrist. Roger instinctively ripped his wrist away and turned around quickly to look at Liam with wide eyes.

“Rog! I thought we were okay…”

The drummer sighed and looked around before he motioned for the other man to follow him around the back of the building where it was deserted. Once they were alone, he suddenly felt Liam press his lips against his own and he let himself enjoy it for a few moments before he finally pushed the other man away.

“Stop! I just… can’t.”

Liam searched his face desperately but Roger also recognized some anger in them. “Why not, Roger? I’ve… wanted this, you… forever. Since I saw you… come on. We could have a lot of fun, mate.”

The drummer was feeling very confused inside. He wanted to escape from his own thoughts for an hour or two. He did want to be with Liam, but as much as he wanted that, he knew he also wouldn’t be able to not think about the belt and his father. He couldn’t shove those thoughts away.

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, Liam. Not today, yeah?”

“Well, fuck, Rog! When, then? I thought we had a good thing going!”

Roger shook his head and scoffed, feeling slightly hurt. “If you’re so hard up to get off, then fuck yourself, Liam. Christ…” He turned around and had taken a few steps to go towards the road to get a cab when he felt an arm grab him and throw him against the brick building hard.

Roger grimaced in pain as his back his the wall and he felt Liam punch his face.

“Fuck you, Rog! This was the last chance I was ever going to give you to act like a decent person, and you blew it!”

Roger spit out blood from biting his lip and looked up at him. “No, Liam. _You_ blew it. I didn’t even want to give you a second chance after all the shit you said to me before! Decent people don’t try to rape other fucking people!”

Liam narrowed his eyes at Roger and shoved him hard against the building again and watched as the drummer’s body crumbled on the ground before the other man spit near him before he walked away. Roger groaned as he angrily kicked the ground under him, punching it over and over again until his knuckles were red from the repeating impact.

He waited several minutes before he finally got up and walked over to the street to catch his cab.

 

**……………. … ……………. .. ………………..**

By the time Roger arrived at The Speakeasy bar and venue, he felt so exhausted and scattered that he almost forgot what he was even doing there anymore. Then he saw Brian and remembered again.

_Oh, yeah. New band members._

He saw Brian looking very unhappy as he walked over to the drummer with a drink. “Care to tell me why we’re meeting here, unplanned, Roger?”

He felt defensive as he took out a cigarette and shakily lit it before he looked up at him. “Two guys want to meet us here to talk about joining the band. They said they saw our fliers around campus and they want to meet us.”

Brian’s face appeared to soften slightly. “Did you happen to catch their names at all?”

“Freddie and John, I think.”

His brows raised. “You… think? You’re not sure?”

Roger sighed and shrugged. “I’m…. pretty sure. It’s been a long day, okay? Give me a break.”

“A long day? You’ve been in class for three hours, Rog. That’s been your whole day,” Brian replied in disbelief. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, his turn to sigh. “All right. Whatever, are they here yet? We should go introduce ourselves.”

“Are you joking? We don’t even know what they look they like. They could be anyone.”

Brian looked at him pointedly. “Right, well… our picture is on the front of the fliers at least. They can come and find us, I suppose.”

Roger took a long drag and looked around for anyone who might look like they were a Freddie or John, but then again, they could be anyone in the room around them. He was quiet as he smoked, catching the guitarist’s eye after several minutes.

“You sure you won’t consider moving with me and Chrissy? There really is plenty of room, Rog, and she likes you, for whatever reason that’s beyond me.”

This made the drummer crack a weak smile and then he felt Brian gently grab his face and turn it towards the light before worry filled his eyes.

“Christ, Rog. What the hell happened to you now?”

Roger forced his face away from Brian, sick of feeling babied. He took another drag and exhaled away from him, looking down at the table. “Just got into another fight. It’s nothing, Bri.”

The older man searched his eyes. “With your father again?”

“No,” Roger chuckled in amusement t that he couldn’t identify. “Not with my father. With Liam.”

Brian wet his lips. “I thought you two were getting on?”

“He basically called me a fag and almost raped me,” Roger corrected in hushed whisper, leaning into him. “So, now, we’re not… getting on, Bri. That ship has sailed. I’m done with him.”

He looked apologetic now and gave a nod of understanding. “Sorry, Rog. Really, I am.”

“I know. Thanks.”

Roger took another drag before he finished it and saw two men walking over to Brian and him. He lit up another cigarette before taking a drag and searching the men’s faces.

“Excuses me, darlings… would you happen to be Brian May and Roger Taylor?” the more confident appearing man asked with a slight smirk on his face.

Brian smiled and nodded before he held his hand out. “Yes, in fact. Would you two happen to be Freddie and John?”

The other two men moved closer to them and took turns shaking both their hands.

“Yes, we would,” Freddie answered with a bright smile. “Pleasure to meet both of you.”

John also smiled as he gave a nod of agreement in Roger and Brian’s direction after shaking their hands. “Cheers.”

Roger half listened as Brian started conversation with them and left the three of them alone so he could go get drinks for all of them. The drummer gave a weak smile to Freddie and John, unsure what to say to either of them, and feeling nervous in their presence. He knew he should say something else, but he was coming up empty. These men seemed to come off as good people, but his trust was at an all-time low at the moment.

Finally, Freddie was the first to speak up, thankfully. “I don’t suppose you two are looking for a couple roommates, by any chance? No, of course not,” he suddenly answered himself with a shake of his head. “We couldn’t possibly get that lucky.”

Roger chuckled now and cleared his throat before he put his cigarette out. “Umm… I am, as a matter of fact. Brian’s sort of living with his girlfriend now, but I’ve been looking at flats, and… it’s a bit small but I found a two bedroom one. If you two are interested, I’ll sleep in the living room and you two can have the rooms?”

Freddie looked absolutely aghast by the suggestion. “Don’t be silly, dear. We usually share a room! You can have the other room, Roger. It would just be wonderful to find more than a one bedroom flat to live in! We have no room for guests.”

Roger was starting to ease a little and then saw Brian come back with their drinks.

“What’d I miss?”

The drummer looked at him. “It appears that Freddie and John have volunteered to share a flat with me.”

Brian looked from the new men to his friend again. “Is that so? At our apartment you’re still in right now or the new one you’ve been looking at?”

“The new one, with two bedrooms,” Roger nodded, taking his pint. “I looked into it and the rent is still more affordable at this one, even with four people living there.”

Brian looked confused as he took a long sip of his own beer. “Four? Roger, there would only be three of you living there, or did you forget how to count?

Roger felt a lump in his throat, having had hoped that Brian would somehow change his mind once Roger figured out new living arrangements somewhere cheaper. He didn’t expect him to break up with Chrissy or anything for him, of course, but Roger had hoped that maybe he would change his mind about moving out. Even just to have him living in the same flat was good enough for him.

He avoided Brian’s gaze and focused extra attention into taking a long pull of his pint, wanting to escape some.

“R-Right. Three,” he nodded, wishing the beer was something stronger right now.

There was a somewhat uncomfortable silence between them but luckily it wasn’t for too long.

“Right, then,” Freddie started, looking almost mischievously at Roger and giving him a friendly wink. “Are we finished talking shop or is there anything else anyone would care to add?”

Brian looked at Roger pointedly, who appeared to be waiting for the guitarist to say something. “It’s your flat, Rog. I’m living with Chrissy, remember?”

“Oh, sure. Umm… if you want,” Roger glanced over at Freddie but also looked at John. “You guys can move in in a couple days if you want. I’ll be moving in tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Wow… that’s… very soon,” John remarked a bit nervously.

Brian turned to face his friend now and looked at him suspiciously. “Yes, it is. You’re telling me that you went to this flat today, for the first time, and then agreed to rent it out? All without even having no money?”

Roger knew where he was going with this; Brian was going to tell him how irresponsible he had been. What else was new?

“I looked at it yesterday too, to be fair, Bri. Anyway, I told him I’d have this month’s rent for him in a few weeks.”

Brian exchanged looks with both John Deacon and Freddie now. He cleared his throat and gave Roger a skeptical look but it was tinged with worry. “I don’t think you understand what you told him. He wants this month’s rent, as well as next month’s, Rog. He wouldn’t give you three weeks to pay this month’s rent. The month’s almost out already. He wants two months’ rent, mate.”

“What?” Roger slammed his pint down, Brian moving his arm away just in time before the impact made the beer slosh in the glass. “That’s impossible! How the hell am I going to do that?!”

_Just another thing he didn’t do right. He should’ve known._

“Let us help you darling,” Freddie suddenly volunteered. “We have a bit of money saved up. We can pay the first month for you if you help us the months to follow.”

John looked over at Roger and smiled softly before he also nodded in agreement.

“That’s very generous of you both, but this is Roger’s mistake, and apparently also mine for letting him go there alone. We’ll figure something out,” Brian gave a shrug and a sigh.

Roger looked like he wanted to fight it, but the guitarist gave him a look telling him to stay quiet.

Freddie gave a playful smile but waved his hand dismissively. “It’s really no bother, Brian. Please, just let us do this. It’s the least we can do. Anyway, we’d like to live in this flat with Roger as well so we’ll be helping to pay rent anyway, and since you’re not going to be living there, it seems to me that you shan’t get a proper say in this,”

Brian raised his eyebrows at Freddie’s bluntness but let out a chuckle.

“I mean no offense, of course, darling,” the younger man winked at him. “Roger, what do you say? Will you let us help you?”

Roger looked at Brian who put his hands up now as if to say that Freddie was right and he had no right to say anything against it. He glanced over at Freddie and John and gave a small, grateful smile before he nodded.

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Excellent, then. Now that all that silly nonsense is out of the way, Roger, let’s get out there and dance, shall we?” Freddie wasted no time in reaching over and grabbing Roger’s hand.

The sudden touch took the drummer by surprise but there was something about it that made him feel comfortable and safe with this new man, and he was the right amount of tipsy. He let him take his hand and lead him out to the dance floor where others were already dancing. Roger felt a bit thankful when Freddie let go of him but stayed close as the two of them started dancing to the music.

Brian laughed in joy as he watched Roger dance a few feet away as he sipped his drink with John beside him.

“How long have you known him?” John asked him curiously.

The taller man looked over at him. “About four months, not too long. It feels like a lot longer, though. Caring for him feels like caring for a teenager sometimes. He gets into trouble, as you’ll probably find out soon enough.”

John chuckled. “You two seem like you’ve been friends for ages. I’d never guess you’ve only known each other a few months.”

“How about you and Fred? How long have you two been… friends?”

John shifted in place a little but he searched Brian’s eyes and moved closer to him, lowering his voice slightly. “We’ve been friends for a few years, but… we’ve been together for a couple months. We’re… together.”

“Oh,” Brian raised his brows again in surprise but he smiled and nodded. “That’s great. I’m very happy for you guys.”

John seemed to relax a little now and he smiled back. “Thank you. We’re happy too,” then after a beat. “I have to be honest, when I first saw you two, I thought maybe you guys were also… together.”

Brian gave a soft chuckle but shook his head. “I love him, but… not quite like that, I’m… pretty sure. Anyway, like I said, I have a girlfriend, Chrissy. She’s also great.”

The younger man looked unsurely at him now. “You’re… pretty sure you don’t love him like that? Not to be a prick or anything but, usually you’d be… really sure, if you truly felt that way. I was with girlfriends before I met Freddie, and… I’m sure that I don’t like women that way anymore.”

Brian seemed to tense and freeze up now. “I’m happy for you two, I am, but I don’t think it’s your business to tell me what I am. Welcome to the band, mate.” He gave John a hard pat on his shoulder before he grabbed his coat. “Tell Rog I went back to my girlfriend’s flat, yeah?”

John turned around and looked at him, almost in disbelief. “Hey, I’m… I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s not my business, whatever you think you are. I’m sorry, just… stay? Please?”

Brian sighed heavily before he finished putting his coat on but gave John an apologetic smile now. “It’s fine. I really have to go get going through. Really, though? Thanks for deciding to join the band. I’m really glad to have you both in it, yeah? Have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too,” John finished his pint and watched as Brian started out now as he mentally kicked himself.

He watched Freddie dancing with Roger until they came back over to the table about forty-five minutes later, the two men sweating.

Roger looked around and then looked back at the man who would be their bassist. “Where’s Bri?”

Freddie looked at John curiously as well.

“He… went home. He said he had to get going and he told me to tell you he went back to his girlfriend’s flat.”

“Oh,” Roger nodded now, running his hands through his hair. He didn’t really appreciate being left with two men he didn’t know all that well. “Right, okay. Well… his loss.”

“That’s right, darling!” Freddie exclaimed. “Did you take a cab here?”

“Yeah.”

“Well then, we’ll just take you back home with us for the night. I make delicious eggs to die for! I won’t take no for an answer,” he smiled.

Roger hesitated at first but nodded, not wanting to go back to an empty flat.

“Terrific! Come on now, dears, let’s all three of us go out there and dance!” Freddie grabbed Roger’s arm and John’s arm, both to their dismay, and started to pull them back out onto the floor before he let go and started to dance again.

Roger looked at John who rolled his eyes but also started to dance. This gave the drummer the confidence he needed again and he forgot about Brian, about money, about rent, about gigs… and let the music of the Rolling Stones move his body.

He didn’t know how long they had danced for and drank, but by the time Freddie pulled both of the men out of the building, Roger was feeling pretty good and drunk, and he looked over to see a tired looking John Deacon as well.

He must have fell asleep in John’s car because when he woke up again, he found himself being half pulled, half carried inside a smaller flat than the one he had looked at earlier. He looked around, not caring that it was tiny. Mostly, he just wanted a place to sleep.

“All right, darling… right down the hall is the loo, my and John’s room is right next to that, and if you don’t mind, you can crash on the couch for tonight. I do hope that’s all right?”

Roger nodded and smirked. “Yeah, no problem. Thanks. Tonight was fun, Freddie. Thanks again.”

Freddie whispered something in John’s ear and Roger watched as John went down the hall into the bedroom before Freddie turned back to face him. “Not at all! We should be thanking _you_ , dear! You found us a new flat! Not to mention, a band to play in.”

Roger shrugged but smiled before he looked at the other man with sincere eyes. “Really, I needed tonight, so… thank you.”

Freddie smiled back at him before he grabbed blankets and walked over to the couch. “You’re very welcome, Roger. Come and knock if you need anything at all.”

The drummer nodded and made himself comfortable on the couch before he quickly passed out. He still felt a bit tiffed at Brian for having ditched him at the club, but for the first time, he felt like he actually had other people he could turn to besides the guitarist.

He felt safe, and comfortable with these two men. He didn’t ever want that feeling to end.


	9. things are looking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll. So this is probably a slow chapter but if there's something you guys would like to see in this fic, comment and I'll try to include it!

**.    .    .**

Roger woke up the next morning to the smell of cigarette smoke. He sat up at his place on the couch and glanced over towards the kitchen to see Freddie smoking as he started to brew the coffee. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and stood up before he walked towards the kitchen and sat down at the table.

“Good morning, darling. Did you sleep all right?”

Roger gave a nod and felt around in his own pants until he took out his package of cigarettes and lit one before he took a drag, needing the morning nicotine. “Yeah, thanks again. Did you two sleep okay?”

Freddie smiled at him. “We slept lovely, thank you for asking, Rog. In fact, John’s still sleeping, I believe.”

“Does he usually sleep this long?” Roger took another drag before exhaling it.

The singer brought a cup of coffee over to the other man and turned on the radio before finally sitting down beside him with his own coffee. “I’m afraid so. Poor Deacy isn’t a morning person,” he searched Roger’s face with the same worry Roger recognized in Brian’s eyes.

“You look dreadful, darling. Will you at least let me put a bandage on that lip for you? It looks like you might have accidentally broken it open during the night.”

Roger tongued the wound and faintly tasted a metallic taste. He was then reminded of the pain in his ribs and then Liam. He wished he could wipe it all from memory. He took another drag of his cigarette and then sighed, looking down at the ashtray in between them.

“Thanks, but… I’m fine, Freddie.”

The singer looked skeptical and gave a playful smirk. “I simply insist you let me look at it! I wouldn’t want it to get infected. Stay put, you. I’ll be right back.”

Roger watched as he stood up and made his way towards the bathroom. He sipped his coffee and took a few more drags off his cigarette before he put it out and heard footsteps coming back. When Freddie came back out, the drummer saw he had antiseptic and a butterfly stitch band-aid in his hands. He chuckled in amusement.

“Do you do this for everyone?”

“No, I do not,” the other man remarked as he dried off the part of Roger’s cut lip with a dry wash cloth. “Only the ones I care about. I sure hope whoever did this got their arse kicked.”

Roger felt like recoiling from him but restrained himself. He tried not to look up at Freddie’s face, afraid he’d end up telling this stranger everything so he focused on the man’s long, slender fingers instead. “No, I should’ve but… I couldn’t.”

“Why not, darling? It seems to me like he sure as hell fucking deserved it.”

Roger chuckled weakly but shrugged. “I sort of… liked him. I liked him a lot, actually.”

“Past tense,” observed Freddie to himself and thought for a moment as he unwrapped the bandage from the paper package. “I realize that you don’t know myself or John that well yet, but I want you to know that whatever you tell us would stay in proper confidence between the two of three of us, and neither of us would judge you for anything at all.”

Roger nodded, taking in this information. The truth was, he did want to tell them. He wanted to tell Freddie everything he was feeling inside, feeling like if he held it in any longer, he might explode. He was quiet as Freddie finished patching him up and watched him take the bandage wrappers over to the garbage to throw them out.

“L-Liam was a friend but… we were sort of… together, I guess. It didn’t work out.”

Freddie raised an eyebrow in interest and sat back down again beside Roger, turning his chair to face him so he’d have his full attention. “Go on, dear. I’m all ears.”

Roger couldn’t help but chuckle again at the other man’s eagerness to hear the story, but he nodded. “We made out before, in his van, but… something happened and… I sort of freaked out because it reminded me of something else. Anyway, he got upset one day and he started calling me… homophobic slurs, and yesterday was the first time he’s talked to me since our fight and I told him that it was over between us. That’s when he hit me and… kicked me.”

When he looked up again, he was met with sympathetic brown eyes. Freddie reached over and placed a hand on top of his own. “I’m so sorry, darling. No one deserves that. Sometimes, people have a difficult time admitting something to themselves and they end up taking it out on others, wrongfully.”

Roger didn’t know what to say so he just nodded in agreement and took another sip of his coffee. He swallowed hard, the coffee burning his throat.

“Liam’s a prick. If I see him again, I’ll probably bash his head in.”

Freddie shook his head. “I strongly advise against that, darling. It won’t help matters any, and it’ll just breed more violence between the two of you. The best thing right now is for you to move on. Have you thought about anyone else in your life?”

Roger searched the singer’s face and shrugged as he thought about Brian. He was afraid of making things awkward for all of them before their first gig together so he remained quiet. He cleared his throat and stood up.

“Thank you, for the coffee and the… the talk, but I should head back home.”

Freddie hurried over to him. “Don’t be silly. Why go home to an empty house when we could spend the day together? I was told that Brian will be his girlfriend today anyway. Stay and hang out with us? We can go over to your place and help pack your things for you so we can move in!”

The offer was more than tempting for the drummer. If he was honest, he didn’t want to be alone today. Roger ran a hand through his hair before he nodded. “All right. Cheers. I’m going to head over to my flat and I’ll see you guys there in a bit? I need to shower and everything anyway.”

“Sounds absolutely perfect, darling. Oh! How silly of me. Could you write down the address?”

Roger walked over to the piece of paper on the counter and picked up the pen. “Oh, right.” He wrote down the address before also adding some helpful notes and then handed it to Freddie.

“Thank you, Roger. See you soon.”

The drummer nodded and grabbed his cigarettes before he made his way outside towards the road. He got into a cab and when he arrived at his old flat, he entered and made a beeline for the shower. Once he scrubbed the grime off him and got changed, he heard the phone ring in the living room.

He hurried out barefoot and picked it up. “Taylor residence.”

 _“You do realize that I still technically live there as well?”_ Brian’s voice chided on the other end.

Roger sighed to himself and picked up the phone before he took it over to the couch and sat down, a part of him feeling whole just hearing the guitarist’s voice again. “Yeah, but not for much longer. You’re basically already living there with her, aren’t you?” He asked knowingly.

_“That isn’t the point, Rog. What if someone was calling for me?”_

The drummer groaned, taking back his previous feeling of relief. “Then I’d tell them where you were and give them Chrissy’s number. Is there a reason why you called or did you just want to nag me like a granny?”

 _“Well, nagging you is fun sometimes,”_ he heard Brian tease as he chuckled. _“Anyway, I just wanted to see if you made it home all right. Everything okay, Rog?”_

Roger wet his lips, his tongue momentarily running over the butterflied bandage. “Why did you leave me there last night?” He asked softly, his voice almost laced with hurt.

 _“Why? Did something happen?”_ Brian asked suddenly, panicked. _“Are you okay? Did they do something to you, Roger?”_

His friend’s panicked voice warmed Roger’s soul, to know that he actually did care about the drummer. “No, nothing. I’m fine, Bri. I just wanted to know why you left early last night.”

 _“Oh,”_ Brian was calmer now _. “I’m sorry, Roger. I just… I wanted to get back home to Chrissy. I met you there to do what we needed to do, to talk to them about the band and the new flat, and we had a couple drinks and that was it. I’m guessing that you stayed at the bar for longer than a couple drinks, though.”_

There was a playfulness in his voice.

Roger smiled to himself. “I had about six drinks, I think.”

_“Did you have fun?”_

“Yeah, I did. I like them. They’re nice.”

_“Good. I’ll probably be home tomorrow morning. Do you have enough money until then?”_

“Oh, right. I do, but Freddie and John are coming over in a bit to help me pack up my things to move into the new flat.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end and Roger felt like he knew what it meant; Brian wanted to talk to him about something, but he didn’t want to do it over the phone. He wanted to actually sit down and talk to him.

_“Do you want to come over and hang out when you’re done with that?”_

Roger didn’t really like the idea of being over at their flat but he also didn’t feel like meeting anywhere public either. “Yeah, all right. I remember where she lives. I’ll be over in a few hours.”

_“Great, see you soon, Rog.”_

Roger hung up and put the phone on the coffee table before he put on socks and shoes and not long after heard the doorbell. He opened it and smiled when he saw Freddie and John standing before him.

“Hey strangers, come on in,” Roger teased as he started into his room to pack up his clothes.

“All right, I’ll pack up your drum kit, Roger, while you and John pack up the rest of your belongings,” Freddie announced before he started to separate the parts to pack into John’s car.

John chuckled as he watched him. “There’s no way we’re going to fit all of it into my car, Freddie.”

“Oh ye of little faith, darling.”

John laughed again before he walked into Roger’s room and looked around. His eyes rested on the Astronomy books on the floor. “Yours or Brian’s?”

Roger glanced over to see where John was looking as he shoved his clothes into his bag. “Oh, Brian’s. I study biology. Brian’s the space nerd. What do you study, John?”

The bassist grabbed another bag. “Electrical engineering.”

“Oh, cool. Do you like that?”

John smiled to himself and shrugged. “Sure. It’s useful. Do you like studying biology?”

Roger nodded but then chuckled.

“I’d rather be a rock star instead, but I guess it’s interesting. I actually hate going to class. I’d prefer to study anatomy,” he admitted with a smirk.

John laughed now and rolled his eyes. “I’m going to go help Freddie. Here – go get your bathroom things and meet us outside.”

“All right.” Roger grabbed the bag from John and went to fill it up with his shampoo, body wash and razors. When he was finished, he went outside where the sky was clouding over with a dark greyness, threatening to rain.

He saw two of his bags in the car, along with his entire drum kit crammed half in the trunk and half in the back seat.

“My poor drums…”

“Your drums are fine, Rog. Come on, now. Let’s go!” He clapped his hands dramatically and watched as Roger climbed in the back seat and John in the driver seat. “We really thought you’d have more things, darling.”

Roger watched as drops of rain started to splatter the window. “Oh, yeah. Just… books and clothes and whatever else. The rest of it belongs to Brian.”

They started driving to the new flat.

“Er… not that we don’t want to share a flat with you, Rog, but… why did you choose to move in so quickly? Usually, people have a few weeks to pack up their things and move but you really jumped the gun on this,” John noted, glancing at the drummer in the rear view mirror.

He knew that they’d be suspicious about the move but he didn’t want to tell them the truth. He didn’t want to tell them that it hurt less to rip the band-aid off quickly instead of pulling at it a little at a time. The truth that he didn’t want to prolong it because it hurt too much being away from Brian and that the guitarist had chosen to be with his girlfriend instead of Roger.

“I just… wanted to be away from Brian,” he said quietly. “I wanted to get it done as soon as I could.”

Freddie glanced over at John but neither man said anything else as they drove on. They finally arrived at the new flat about twenty minutes later and started to get unpacked, making mad dashes into the building to escape the rain that had only increased its intensity outside.

By the time they finished, the three men all looked like drenched rats and changed into dry clothes. Freddie took out Scrabble and put tea on before looking at Roger.

“Can we tempt you with a game, darling?”

Roger put his sweatshirt on and his shoes back on again. “Maybe later. I told Brian I’d meet him at his girlfriend’s for tea. I’ll see you guys later.”

“All right, Rog. See you,” John smiled.

Roger smiled back at him before waving goodbye to Freddie and headed out to find a cab.

 

**………..**

**  
** It was still pouring when Roger arrived at Chrissy’s flat and he was sure that she was purposely making him stand outside in the rain until Chrissy finally answered the door a few minutes later and stepped aside to let the drummer inside.

“Alright, Roger?” she asked politely.

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks. Yourself?” He took off his soaked sweatshirt and watched as she took it and draped it across the grate of the fireplace where a fire was cozily burning so it would dry. “Cheers.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m all right. Go on up. Brian’s waiting for you. I’ll bring you both up some tea in a bit.”

Roger tensed, unsure how he liked being tended to like this, feeling like he should be the one to make the tea for her and Brian. “No, Chrissy…” he hesitated. “I can make it if you like? You don’t have to do that for me.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and shook her head. “Roger, it’s my flat. You’re my guest. Please, go on up now before I throw the kettle at your head.”

He chuckled now, feeling more at ease at her teasing. “Thanks, Chrissy,” he headed up the stairs and looked around until he saw Brian in the small library. “Hey, I haven’t seen you in so long that I almost forgot what you looked like.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Really? It’s been less than two days, Rog. I’m pretty sure you still remember what I look like.”

The blonde shrugged and sat down on the floor across from his friend. He hated these feelings he was having inside himself. Feelings that told him he shouldn’t be feeling in the first place towards his best mate. Hell, his only mate, at least until now. He felt a pull towards the guitarist, from deep within him, but he knew he had to fight against it. He shouldn’t feel this way, not when Brian had a girlfriend he was feeling serious about.

Roger swallowed hard, a part of him wanting to cry, a part wanting to scream and yell, another part just wanting to throw up. He hated himself for being so selfish, wanting Brian to himself.

“Rog?”

The drummer looked up and realized that he had completely zoned out but from the look on Brian’s face, he was expected to answer something.

“What? S-Sorry…”

The older man looked at him with concern in his eyes. “I just asked if you were all moved into your new flat or if you need help?”

Roger cleared his throat and heard footsteps approaching. He looked over to see Chrissy place a tray of tea in between them before she slipped away again to give the two men privacy. It was difficult to hate Chrissy when she was so damn nice to him.

When she was gone, he looked up at Brian who was pouring them tea in mugs. “Yeah, I mean… I’ve got all my things over there now. It’s taken care of. I didn’t really have a lot of things.”

“You did all of this awfully fast, mate… are you okay?”

_No. I love you and you love her, and I feel fucking ripped apart inside._

“Yeah,” Roger lied as cheerfully as he could before he took a sip of tea. “Fine. The whole thing was just stressing me out, you know? I just wanted to get it done and over with so I could relax, that’s all. I wouldn’t be able to afford to stay in that flat anyway, with or without Freddie and John.”

Brian gave a short nod before he sighed.

“I told you that you could move in here, Rog. Chrissy’s amazing and I know she wouldn’t mind. You can still ask her. The other two can still live in that flat and be able to afford it with our gigs, and I’m sure that they both have other jobs. It’s not too late,” he insisted.

Roger shook his head and sat back. “No, I’m really fine with sharing the new flat with them, Bri. Anyway, you guys are getting pretty serious. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Sure you do,” Brian smirked. “But I wouldn’t mind. You’re my best mate, and I wouldn’t mind you being here.”

Roger felt his heart swell but even if it was okay with Brian for him to stay here, it would just be torture for the drummer. At the sake of his own heart, he _couldn’t_ stay here.

“Thanks, but… it’s all right. They’re going to be our band mates anyway, right? This will be a good chance to get to know them.”

Brian gave a small chuckle before he drank his tea. “You might regret that, Rog.”

The other man also chuckled before he shrugged and finished his tea before pouring himself some more and then lit a cigarette and took a drag. He exhaled away from his friend but still Brian waved his hand away to clear the smoke away from him.

“Maybe they can get you to stop smoking.”

Roger held the cigarette between his fingers before he took a second drag. “I don’t believe this! You smoke too!”

“Once in a while,” he admitted. “Nowhere near as much as you do.”

Roger shrugged, unsure what to say to that. He didn’t really have a good excuse for smoking, except that it helped with his anxiety and stress, but then that would just bring them back to him moving in with Brian all over again, so he didn’t say anything.

Then, something caught his eye next to Brian and he straightened up almost excitedly. “Hey, are you working on songs? Can I see them?”

“Oh, it’s actually just the one song. It’s still a work in progress,” the guitarist took the paper and let it glide towards Roger.

He took the piece of paper and started to read Brian’s scratchy handwriting. He raised an eyebrow at the title and rubbed the back of his neck as the cigarette rested between his lips.

“Not any good?” Brian asked fearfully, searching Roger’s face.

“What?” The younger man blinked and then shook his head. “Oh, no. I think it’s good, really good, Bri. ‘Keep Yourself Alive,’ I like it. Really.”

Brian gave him a smile of relief and seemed to relax. “Well, I’m glad you approve, Roger. Like I said, it’s still a work in progress. I need to rewrite some of the lyrics, but I’m thinking we could go over it with Freddie and John.”

“Yeah, sure,” Roger nodded, gliding the paper back towards Brian who set it down beside him again. “You should come by tomorrow and we can do some drinking and songwriting.”

Brian gave a nervous chuckle. “Maybe not so much drinking, but I can get on board with the songwriting. How are you getting on, by the way? Are they still okay?”

The drummer nodded, putting out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. “Yeah, they’re great. They helped me move all my shit. They’re nice… I like them.”

“Good,” Brian gave a nod of approval and smiled. “I’m really glad that you’re getting on with them, Rog. Things are going to be looking up for us soon, I can feel it.”

Roger smiled back at him, feeling warmth spread throughout him.

“Me too, Bri.”


	10. secret kiss

**.    .     .**

Roger finished his tea and smoked another cigarette before hugging Brian goodbye and took a cab to the new flat where he saw John relaxing on the couch in front of the television, sipping tea. He took off his wet sweatshirt and sighed as he planted himself on the couch beside John.

“Where’s Freddie?”

The bassist looked over at the drummer. “He’s packing a few things to bring here until we can officially move out of our old flat in a couple weeks. How’s Brian?”

Roger nodded and looked down at his hands distractedly. “He’s good. He seems happy.”

He could feel eyes on him and he was starting to feel self-conscious but he kept his eyes down. Out of the corner of his eye, Roger could tell John wanted to say something but was holding back.

“What?”

John shook his head, as if he changed his mind. “Nothing, never mind.”

“No,” Roger persisted, forcing himself to look at him. “Tell me, please? I want to know.”

John gave a small sigh before he stood up and poured himself another cup of tea before also pouring one for Roger and handing it to him before he sat down, facing him. Roger wasn’t liking where this was headed; things seemed serious.

“You were saying how he seems happy. Are you happy?”

Roger had to think about this. Was he happy?

He was moderately happy. He was happy that he was able to move out of his father’s house and that he got away from Liam. He was happy that he got to hang out with Brian earlier.

_No._

_He was miserable._

He was miserable that he was still in college taking classes, and that he’d have to pick up a part time job. He was miserable that he was still taking cabs everywhere, and that their band wasn’t famous yet. Roger was miserable that he was worried about rent and money, and that he didn’t have anyone to love. He was miserable that he was lonely as hell. The drummer was miserable that Brian was with someone who wasn’t him, and he was miserable that he couldn’t even tell him his feelings, lest he risk losing his best friend.

Roger realized that he had been silent for too long and he shook his head.

“I mean, sure. Yeah, I am. I’m happy for him.”

John searched the other man’s face. “That wasn’t the question I asked, Roger. I asked if _you_ were happy, not for him… for yourself. So, are you?”

Roger took a sip of tea, letting it burn his throat as he took his time replying. “The truth is, I could complain all day, but it wouldn’t change anything, would it? I’m… I’m not happy, John. I wish I was, but… I’m just not.”

He saw John give him sympathetic eyes.

“I know I don’t know you that well, and I don’t want to try to tell you what to do, Rog, but… if you’re not happy with how your life is right now, then you need to do something to change it. You should take action to help make yourself happy, to live the life you want to live,” John searched his face.

Roger took this in and nodded, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, John.”

“Of course.”

The two men casually talked, smoked, and sipped well into the evening. Roger had even found himself laying on the couch opposite of the bassist who was also looking sleepy as the two men tried to stay up for Freddie.

When the other man finally made his way inside, Roger was already asleep with a cigarette between his fingers as his arm rested halfway off the couch.

“Oh for god’s sake! Roger, darling, wake up.”

The exclamation startled Roger and made him half sit up quickly and rubbed his eyes before he looked around in time to see Freddie putting out his cigarette in an ashtray.

“Hmm? Whaaa…?”

He looked up to see a stern looking Freddie Mercury looking down at him.

“Oh nothing, you just almost accidentally burnt yourself and poor Deacy alive is all… really, Rog, if you’re going to smoke, at least put it out when you’re done.” Freddie shook his head and started down the hall towards his room.

Roger looked over to see John yawning and looked back at Freddie as he started to come back towards them. “Sorry, Fred. I fell asleep! I didn’t even realize I was asleep before I was.”

The singer playfully narrowed his eyes at Roger before he leaned down and rubbed John’s shoulders. “And _you_!”

“What on earth did I do?” John chuckled, looking abashed.

“Nothing! You did nothing… which is exactly my point, isn’t it, darling? He could’ve lit both of you and our new flat on fire! He could’ve burned you alive!”

John smirked and shrugged. “I was tired. I didn’t even notice,” he glanced at Roger, still smirking. “I guess I simply assumed that he was a responsible adult who could put cigarettes out before he fell asleep.”

Roger chuckled, hearing the playful teasing in their voices. “I _am_ a responsible adult!”

“Liar!” Freddie exclaimed again dramatically. “Liar! Liar! Liar!”

John chuckled and stood up before he winked to Roger and playfully tussled the blonde’s hair as he followed Freddie to the bedroom. “Goodnight, Roger.”

“Goodnight,” he replied back, giving both men a wave before he walked into his own room, looking forward to seeing Brian again tomorrow, but he couldn’t ignore the shiver that ran through his body at John’s playful tug.

 

**……………. … …………….**

**  
** Roger woke up early the next morning, eager to see John again and eager to feel the way he had felt last night around him. He had feelings for Brian, but he had felt _alive_ when John had tugged on his long hair. It had been such a small, casual gesture, but something had rushed through his entire being that he couldn’t describe.

Just another feeling of guilt that he’d have to push down and ignore for now.

He had just poured himself a cup of coffee when he saw John enter the kitchen and give the drummer a tired smile. Roger returned the smile and then jumped to his side.

“Oh, let me get you a cup,” he offered as he gently took the cup from the younger man.

John chuckled softly at his eagerness but nodded and lit up a cigarette instead. “Why, thank you, Roger. You don’t have to but I appreciate that.”

“Sure,” Roger poured coffee into the mug before adding cream and sugar and handed it to him. He felt nervous as he stood close to him, smelling the cigarette smoke as it hung in the air. “Oh, umm… I hope it’s all right, but I invited Brian over today for songwriting.”

John looked up at him but nodded. “Yeah, sounds fine. I’m sure Freddie will like that. He’s itching to write some songs with him, I think.”

“Yeah, same with Brian,” Roger wet his lips, unable to stop looking at John’s, and wondering what they tasted like. He took a deep breath and took a drink of his coffee to distract himself.

_He was with Freddie. He wasn’t on the market anymore._

The two men stood side by side against the counters, perhaps a little closer than would be considered normal for two friends. Watching John smoke made him want to, so he grabbed his own package of cigarettes off the counter nearby and lit one up before taking a drag.

John looked over at him and gave him a small smile.

Roger smiled back and then cleared his throat to ease his own nervousness. “So, uhh… is Fred not a morning person?”

The bassist gave another chuckle before he sipped his coffee. “Not really, no. He probably won’t be up for another couple hours. Do you want to go into the living room and watch some telly?”

“Yeah, sure.” Roger nodded and led them into the living room before sitting on the couch. “Brian wakes up pretty early. He thinks it’s a waste of time sleeping in.”

John took a drag and exhaled, turning towards him with interest. “Oh yeah? Well, I suppose I can see that. So… Freddie and I both have part time jobs as coffee baristas in the coffee shop just on the corner. If you’re interested, they’re looking for one more, if you’d like to work there with us? I could drive the three of us there and back afterwards.”

The offer was more than tempting. It would be nice to have more money in his pocket in between gigs. Maybe then he could stop bumming and borrowing off Brian. He gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, maybe. That sounds good.”

“Good,” John gave a wide smile. “Come with us when we go in tomorrow and we can work something out.”

“All right,” Roger agreed, nodding, unable to help but also smile. He was quiet as he sipped his coffee and smoked until he put his cigarette out and then felt the urges inside him get stronger until he thought he might burst.

He looked over to see John set his coffee down and he felt butterflies in his stomach as he leaned over suddenly and pressed his lips against the bassist’s, tasting a nice mixture of nicotine and coffee on his lips.

He felt the other man kiss him back for a split second before then feeling John move away, gently putting his hands on Roger’s chest lightly. The drummer took the hint and leaned back, searching his face.

“S-Sorry, I’m… shit, I’m sorry,” he stammered, searching John’s eyes with his own apologetic ones. “I… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m an idiot,”

Roger swallowed hard, waiting for John to say something but he didn’t, and perhaps that was worse. “S-Say something…please.”

John ran a hand through his hair, his face looking conflicted. “I-I’m… with Freddie, Rog, and… even if that wasn’t an issue, we don’t really know each other. I feel like we’d be moving too fast.”

Roger nodded quickly, figuring that John would say both of these things. “R-Right. Yeah. Y-You’re with Freddie,” he echoed, as if he was trying to force that idea into his brain. I’m sorry, John. I just… I know we barely know each other but y-you touch me, and… I feel these _stupid fucking_ things inside of me and I should…. I know I should control them better. Fuck….”

He was rambling, but he couldn’t properly describe his feelings that was more than frustrating for him. Roger went to stand up but felt John reach up quickly and touch his arm gently to stop him.

“Wait, sit back down, Roger,”

He sat back down again and looked at the bassist, waiting for him to say more.

“I-I feel certain things for you too. I can’t describe it either but… I barely know you and you mean a ridiculous amount to me already. I care about you, mate. I don’t want to hurt you, though, and… at the same time, I also don’t want to break Freddie’s heart. I love him.”

Roger was confused about why John was telling him these things but he also felt his heart leap with joy when he heard him confess that he felt something for the drummer as well. He nodded in understanding at John’s words, however.

“Yeah, of course. I don’t… expect you to choose me over him or anything,” Roger looked down at his hands and sighed. “We can pretend that it didn’t even happen.”

John gave an almost sad smile. “But it did happen, Roger…”

“I know,” he nodded. “I-I’m sorry again. I didn’t mean to… mess you up or anything, or make you mess anything up with Freddie.”

“You didn’t mess anything up. I promise… if it makes you feel better, though, we’ll pretend it didn’t happen,” John gave him a wink and then started to drink his coffee again.

The truth was, Roger didn’t want to pretend nothing happen, because that probably hurt him more than it actually have happened. He nodded, not wanting to cause trouble between anyone. He finished his coffee and then stood up to get another cup, really feeling like he needed another cigarette.

“Do you happen to know when our first gig together is?”

Roger glanced over at him and shook his head after lighting up the cigarette. “Not sure, but I’m sure Brian can schedule it for us. He’s the one who’s best with doing that.”

Any tension or uneasiness between them seemed to disappear and things felt a bit more relaxed.

John smirked. “He seems like he would be. No offense, of course. He just seems… more adult than the rest of us, I think.”

Roger chuckled, taking another drag before he walked back over to him and sat down. “You seem like pretty adult, Deacy.”

“You called me pretty. I’m so flattered, Rog. You know, you’re rather pretty yourself,” John teased.

Roger playfully shoved John lightly before he rolled his eyes before he heard a knocking at the door and stood up to go answer it. He looked out the window part first before he unlocked the door and opened it wide for Brian.

“Good morning, Roger,” the guitarist greeted politely as he entered the flat and looked around. “All right?”

The drummer felt a pang of guilt again as he remembered his kiss earlier but pushed it away, reminding himself how Brian was with Chrissy anyway and it didn’t really matter. The guilt disappeared as quickly as it had come and he forgot all about it, and instead found himself replaying the kiss with John earlier in his head.

“Yeah, good. How are you?”

Brian gave a nod but he didn’t elaborate, instead, making his way inside the flat with his guitar attached to him on his back. He gave a nod to the bassist. “All right, John?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “All right. You?”

Brian gave a small smile and nodded before he looked around. “Freddie not awake yet, I take it?”

“He’s not exactly a morning person. I don’t suspect he’ll be up for a couple more hours at least,” John shrugged. “We can get started without him though. Help yourself to some coffee if you like.”

Brian didn’t need to be told twice. Roger watched him make a beeline for the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cupboard before pouring himself some coffee and then came back. The three men chatted idly about Freddie and John’s jobs, as well as John’s suggestion about getting Roger a job as well, to which Brian looked surprised but also approvingly about. John and Roger had gotten through about five cigarettes, and Brian about two cups of coffee when Freddie finally woke up around 11:30.

The other men looked on as the singer strutted out in a pair of silky pajama bottoms and a silky open shirt that hung to his waist. The singer walked sleepily over to the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee before walking over to the others, giving them a friendly smile.

“Good morning, darlings. What have you all been doing without me?”

“Nothing at all,” John smiled lovingly at Freddie. “We were just talking. We were waiting for you to wake up before we start writing songs.”

Brian gave Freddie a polite smile as he eyed the man’s pajamas up down once and smirked. “Sleep well?”

“I did but I have a terribly odd dream, Brian,” he started, taking a sip of his coffee before he walked over to his piano that rested against the wall.

It must have been one of the first things to be put in the flat.

“What was it about?” Roger inquired.

Freddie glanced over at him as he played a few stray keys on the piano before answering. “I dreamt that John and I were swimming through petrol, and you and Brian were trying your very best to save us, but you couldn’t and we drowned.”

“Jesus, that sounds terrible,” Brian admitted.

“Yes,” Freddie agreed. “But then the strangest thing happened. The petrol disappeared, and then John and I were free, but suddenly, I turned into a balloon and floated away.”

The three men chuckled but Freddie looked thoughtful.

“I think it means you always have your head in the clouds and perhaps I’m the one that keeps you grounded,” John also smirked now.

Roger smiled to himself. It was a cute thought, if he was honest. He wanted someone to make him feel that way, help him be grounded.

Freddie gave a sly smile at John. “Perhaps you’re right, love. You are indeed my rock. There’s no doubt about that.” He started to play the opening notes of “Doin’ All Right” on the piano absentmindedly.

Roger glanced over at Brian who was looking back over at him, as if he could read his thoughts. The sound reminded Roger of a bad time when Tim was still in the picture, of a past band that he didn’t want to remember anymore. He didn’t want to say as much though.

Brian cleared his throat. “Okay, so I had a few ideas for at least three songs. Feel free to tell me the truth of what you think of them, though, yeah? All of you gents.”

The next few hours were spent discussing Brian’s ideas for songs, which ended in the others adding onto them and forming new songs altogether until they had at least four new songs. They took a break for tea, and then by that time it was time for Brian to leave.

“Come on, stay a bit longer. You should stay the night and hang out with us. Have a few drinks,” Roger urged him.

Brian put his jacket on and threw his guitar back over his shoulder. “I will one of these nights when I don’t have classes anymore. Anyway, Chrissy’s expecting me, but I promise I’ll spend a long weekend over soon.”

The drummer nodded reluctantly, knowing that he couldn’t change his friend’s mind, and didn’t want to. “Right, okay, Bri.”

The guitarist gave him a small smile before he wrapped his arms around the shorter man and hugged him for several moments before he pulled away. “If you need me, just ring. You know the number.”

Roger smiled back and nodded. “Yeah, sure thing.”

Brian waved at him and then looked him at Freddie who was draped around John. “See you, gentlemen. I had fun. We need to do it again soon. Take care of this troublemaker for me.”

John chuckled and glanced over at Roger. Freddie moved over to Brian and hugged him. “Goodbye, darling! Of course we’ll do this again soon. We’re a band now. Oh! John brought it up but I meant to ask you; are you able to find us a gig soon?”

Brian nodded. “I’ve been looking around to see if anyone would like to take us on and so far, there’s one hopeful at my university, at Imperial College. Unfortunately, that’s probably the best we’ll be able to do for now. I think we should take it. It’s not much money, but it’ll help you out with the rent for this month, at least, then you’ll be all caught up.”

Freddie glanced over at Roger and John who both shrugged and nodded. He looked back at Brian and smiled brightly. “That sounds perfect then, Brian. That would be great. Just let us know what night and we’ll start getting together to practice.”

“I will, no worries,” Brian smiled waved goodbye before he took his leave. Roger watched as Freddie closed the door again.

“He’s very kind, and very tall,” Freddie remarked before he walked over and sat between John and Roger on the floor. He kissed the bassist’s cheek and put an arm around Roger. “I feel so lucky, to be able to play a band with both my lovely boyfriend and my wonderful friend, and of course Brian as well.”

Roger watched Freddie kiss John, and surprisingly didn’t feel any balls of jealousy. Instead, he felt happy for the two of them. “We feel lucky too, Freddie.”

He felt the singer pull him closer and blushed as he felt the singer quickly kiss his cheek. “Come on, dears… I think a couple drinks are in order for the occasion.”

A couple drinks, turned in six and then seven, and the last thing Roger remembered was curling up with the other two men on the couch, limbs entangled all around, and watching _Diamonds Are Forever_.


	11. confess

**.     .    .**

Roger woke up the next morning with Freddie’s leg wrapped around his own across from him, and John’s head in the crook of his shoulder. It felt right and wrong at the same time. It made his stomach both tighten with anxiety and give him butterflies.

He didn’t want to move, lest he risk waiting up either man so he remained where he was, wishing he was at least in reach of his cigarettes. They rested on the coffee table a few inches away, almost mockingly. He was silent as he inhaled the bassist’s smell and he found it relaxed him.

John Deacon smelled of cigarettes and the cheap vodka they had broken into last night.

Roger closed his eyes, embracing this moment with him. Freddie’s leg was still entangled around his own but somehow, the drummer felt like this all felt natural, it felt _right._ It wasn’t just John’s limbs around him, it was also Freddie’s. He knew it also wasn’t just because of too much alcohol that went to their heads making them over affectionate or whatever.

When he opened his eyes he saw John’s looking back at him. The temptation to kiss him was almost too much, but this time he restrained himself.

“Sleep all right, Deaky?”

The younger man smiled at the nickname as it came out of Roger’s mouth.

“Yeah, besides the splitting headache I have this morning,” he chuckled. “How about you? How did you sleep?”

Roger nodded and also chuckled. “About the same. I don’t even remember drinking very much.”

John smirked and glanced across from there where Freddie was laying and saw his limbs entangled with Roger’s. He carefully unhooked himself and stood up. “I’ll get us some aspirin, yeah?”

The drummer swallowed hard, wondering if he was upset about how their legs had been but when John came back with a glass of water and aspirin, he saw the younger man smiling at him. Roger relaxed a bit and smiled back at him before he took the aspirin and swallowed it down with the water before handing the glass over to John. Roger watched him swallow the painkillers down before he searched his face.

_God, John’s eyes made his heart melt inside his chest._

“I’ll make some coffee…”

He started over to the kitchen when Roger half sat up. “Wait, I’ll help.”

“No,” John waved him off. “It’s fine. Stay put, Freddie’s comfortable. I wouldn’t want to wake him,” he laughed softly before he started to put a fresh pot on.

Roger relaxed where he was and looked down at the singer. He did indeed look pretty comfortable as he lay on the floor, his legs around Rogers’ as he hugged a pillow. He wondered if Freddie was upset that he couldn’t hug John last night for whatever reason instead but he tried not to think about it too hard.

Instead, he focused on their first gig together. They had original songs they could sing but they would still have to include a few cover songs as well.

Before he knew it, the bassist was carefully balancing three mugs of coffee in his hands and set one on the coffee table for Freddie before he handed one to Roger and then sat down beside him.

“Cheers,” he thanked him sleepily as he sipped it. It only occurred to him now that he hadn’t even thought about Brian the whole night until now. “Do you think Brian’s found us a gig yet?”

John made a thoughtful face before taking a sip of his own coffee. “Dunno. Hopefully. At least we have a few songs of our own. Are we still Smile?”

Roger thought about this for a while before he shrugged. “I guess, for now we are. We should come up with a new name, though.”

“You wouldn’t mind that? A new name?” John searched his face curiously.

Roger looked down at his coffee and sipped it before he set down and grabbed the package of cigarettes off the coffee table and lit one between his lips. “No, we need a new name. The singer we had last was a complete asshole. I want to… start over.”

John nodded in understanding and wet his lips. “So… he was a prick, the other guy?”

Roger inhaled and then exhaled away from John before he nodded. “Yeah, we didn’t really get along. I mean, I guess we were all right, for a while, then… things changed.” 

He absentmindedly looked over at Freddie as he started to stir and then groan.

“Good morning, Fred,” John whispered softly.

The singer grabbed his head and groaned again.  “Why on earth must you yell so loudly, darling? I can hear you perfectly fine…”

Roger glanced over at John who just rolled his eyes and smirked. He stood up and handed Freddie two aspirin with the water and then knelt down beside him before kissing his lips softly.

“Mmm, I believe I’m feeling all better already. You’re simply magic, John!”

Roger laughed now and took this opportunity to untangle himself from Freddie so the singer and John could sit more comfortable with each other if they wanted to do so. He moved closer to his coffee and watched as the other two men embraced a few feet away from him. The blonde couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched them, feeling happy for them.

Freddie caught his eye when he glanced over and saw him watching them. “You can come over here as well if you’re feeling left out?”

The offer caught Roger off guard and he wasn’t sure if the singer was just taking the piss at him for watching them or what. He chuckled nervously.

“W-What?”

“Get over here, darling! There’s plenty of love to go around,” Freddie grinned, opening an arm up invitingly.

Roger felt his heart drop. He didn’t want to ruin anything they had; it was bad enough he had fucked up and kissed John, and Freddie didn’t even know that part. He stood up with his coffee in one hand and cigarette in the other and gave a small shake of his head.

“Thanks, Fred, but… I should jump in the shower. I’ll be out in a bit,” he gave him a smile and then finished his coffee before forcing himself to enter the bathroom.

He paced a little bit before he took another inhale of the cigarette and then exhaled as he put it out in the sink and turned the shower on. He was in so much emotional trouble that he felt like his body was filling up with rocks and he couldn’t breathe.

_What the fuck was he doing?_

He couldn’t go on kissing John like that, especially when the bassist had only kissed back for a millisecond before gently pushing him away.

_But he was feeling things for the younger man._

And Freddie. But that felt like a different kind of love, but then again, confusion was tearing him apart so he didn’t actually know what the hell he was feeling.

Roger pulled off the clothes from the night before and started to wash up, trying not to think about anyone until he was dead. When he was done, he got out and dried his body off before wrapping the towel around his waist and was surprised when he came out to find Brian sipping coffee.

The guitarist eyed the towel around his waist and oddly looked nervous. He cleared his throat. “Sorry if this is a bad time. I just came over to tell you we have a gig tomorrow at _The Speakeasy_.”

Roger felt his jaw drop to the floor. “You’re joking. One day to practice? That’s it? Are you sure you couldn’t get it any sooner, Bri?”

The older man put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just the messenger, Rog. It’s not my fault. Do you want to play and get some money or no? If we decide to put it off, we won’t get another opportunity to play for at least two more weeks.”

Roger sighed and shook his head. “Fine. All right. Is that really the only reason you decided to stop shagging Chrissy and come over? To tell us about the show?”

He saw Brian give him a sharp look now. The guitarist glanced over at Freddie and John who seemed to be having their own conversation and then looked back at his friend.

“Roger, might we talk in private a moment?”

The drummer nodded and motioned for him to follow him into his bedroom and closed the door behind Brian who was looking irked now.

“What the hell is your problem, Roger? Are you really this upset about the show because if so, then you need to get over it and stop being childish… and by the way, I don’t appreciate you bringing Chrissy into this conversation like that, at all.”

The drummer was sure he’d never seen Roger so mad at him before and seeing him like this now weakened his own anger. He turned around and started to get dressed, not really caring if Brian saw him in the nude.

“Well I don’t know what you want me to say, Brian.”

Brian tongued his cheek, visibly irritated now. “How about an apology? That’d be a good start, I think, Rog.”

The blonde sighed as he put jeans on and turned to look at him. “Fine. I’m sorry I said that comment about Chrissy.”

“Thank you,” Brian sighed back, still not looking happy. “So what exactly is your problem with me? Is it because I didn’t want to move in here with all of you? Is that why you’re so miffed at me?”

Roger bit his lip now and looked away. He didn’t want to confess to Brian what he had done but he was just taking out his anger at himself on Brian, and that wasn’t right. The older man didn’t deserve that. He forced himself to look back at the guitarist who was looking back at him expectantly.

“Well? What is it?”

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat. “I-I… I kissed him. I kissed John yesterday morning, before you arrived.”

Whatever Brian had expected the drummer to explain to him, it wasn’t this. His tense demeanor fell away and his eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Roger agreed. “‘Oh.’ Jesus Christ, Brian! I don’t know what to do here!”

Brian bit his lip. “Okay, calm down, Rog. How did he react? Did you do it in front of Freddie?”

“No, we were both in the living room. Fred was in his room sleeping still. Umm… he sort of… kissed me back for a few seconds before he stopped me. He told me how he was with Freddie and even if that wasn’t an issue, we barely know each other so… I fucked that up.” Roger pulled on shirt and brushed his hair quickly.

Brian thought about this for a moment. “It doesn’t seem like you’ve messed anything up, Roger. He didn’t yell at you, or hit you or anything. He seemed relatively calm about the kiss. Did he tell Freddie about it? Or… did you?”

Roger tensed now and he shook his head. “No way! Neither of us did. He’d probably skin both of us and cover his mic stand with us!”

The guitarist gave him a somewhat disapproving look. “One of you need to tell him about it, Rog. It’s not right to keep it from him.”

“It was a stupid mistake though!” Roger tried to argue but he heard his voice falter.

Brian sighed softly. “It doesn’t seem like it was a mistake to you. It seems like… it meant something to you, and you don’t necessarily regret doing it, and I’m not trying to sound like a dickhead or anything when I say that.”

Roger nodded and bit his lip. “Aren’t you afraid of this breaking up the band? What if Fred quits?”

The other man took a minute and thought about this. “Talk about this with John first, see what he says. Maybe he can figure out a way to tell Freddie that won’t affect the band somehow, but… at the end of the day, it isn’t about the band, is it? It’s about your friendship, and… their relationship.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Roger asked, aghast.

Brian shrugged helplessly.

“Supposed to. Anyway, I’m going to make some breakfast for all of us, so… maybe you can discuss this with John while I do that? I’ll get Freddie to help me so you two can get some time alone, but for the love of all that his holy, _do not_ kiss him again. Understood?”

Roger nodded.

“Good. Come on, then. Let’s get out there.”

The two men walked back out to the living room to see Freddie in the kitchen already pouring himself another cup of coffee while John finished up his cigarette in the living room. Brian made a beeline for the kitchen and started up a lively conversation with the singer while Roger walked into the living room and bit his lip nervously.

“John? Can I… talk to you for a second? Alone?”

The bassist gave a hum of agreement and stood up, putting his cigarette out in the nearby ashtray and led Roger into his and Freddie’s room before closing the door. “What’s going on, Rog? Everything all right?”

He decided to leave Brian out of it.

“Yeah… but… I-I think we should tell Freddie, about… yesterday, the kiss.” He searched John’s eyes, seeing only a second’s glimmer of fear before they changed to apprehension.

“Um… y-yeah, okay. If that’s what you really want to do. What made you want to, though, Roger?”

The drummer was surprised at the acceptance of the proposal.

“I just… don’t think it’s right to keep it from him. What do you think though? I mean, do you think it’s a good idea or…” Roger was aware he was rambling now but he was started to second guess himself.

John gave him a small smile and nodded before he placed a hand on Roger’s shoulder.

_Don’t kiss him again. Don’t kiss him again._

“I think your heart is in the right place and… you’re right; it’s not right to keep this from him. Do you want to tell him, or do you want me to?” He searched Roger’s face calmly.

The drummer swallowed hard. “I-I’m so sorry, John. I don’t want you to tell him if you think it’ll affect your relationship or anything. If you want, I’ll tell him, and I-I’ll even tell him that I kissed you first and you didn’t even like it or anything.”

He saw guilt start to flood the bassist’s face now and John shifted his weight uncomfortably. “I… I _did_ like it, though, Roger. That wouldn’t be entirely true if you told him I didn’t.”

_Fuck. This was surely going to fuck everything up. They could say goodbye to Smile or whatever they were now._

Roger ran his hands through his hair and sighed before he met John’s eyes. “C-Can you talk to him? I would but I’m afraid of him kicking my arse.”

John chuckled and smiled but nodded. “Of course, Roger. Don’t worry. We’ll get through this and Freddie isn’t going to kick your arse today or any day.”

The drummer gave a weak smile and nodded. “Thanks, Deaky… really.”

John placed a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before he nodded and then walked out to where Brian was dishing up breakfast for all of them. He gave Roger another nod to tell him he’d talk to him after breakfast.

Roger appeared to understand the silent gesture and sat down between Brian and John at the table where they were talking.

“Is everything all right, darlings?” Freddie asked after swallowing a part of omelet, looking between the other two men.

“Yeah,” John answered calmly, nodding and smiling. “Of course. I just would like to see you privately after breakfast, if that’s okay, love.”

Freddie’s eyebrow raised but he smiled apprehensively. “Sure thing, dear. Not a problem. These omelets, however, would’ve been a problem if I had made them alone.”

Roger chuckled and glanced at Brian who gave a soft smile.  

“Brian does make great breakfasts. I never used to like breakfast until I moved in with him. Now I make him make them for me all the time,” he smirked.

Brian laughed and nodded. “It’s true; he does.”

John and Freddie grinned in amusement and they all ate their eggs while making casual conversation, chuckling and teasing occasionally. Roger felt like he was finally home. This was all he ever wanted, but he knew once Brian went back to Chrissy, then the feeling would go away.

“You cooked, Brian, we’ll clean,” Freddie declared, standing up once they were all finished.

Brian stood up as well though and stopped him gently, taking the plates from the singer. “No, it’s fine. We’ll clean up, Freddie. You two go ahead and talk. We’ll see you in a bit, yeah?”

 The singer playfully narrowed his eyes teasingly at Brian but nodded once. “Well, all right, then. I suppose that would be okay. Well see you two shortly.”

John led Freddie into their room and Roger heard the door close. He stood up and helped Brian with the dishes before taking them over to the sink and starting to wash them with his friend.

“So you talked to John, about telling Freddie, I’m assuming?”

Roger nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety wrapping inside his intestines uncomfortably. “Yeah. I just hope Freddie isn’t going to be upset. I don’t want to mess anything up, you know?”

Brian smiled at him gently. “You’re a good man, Rog. I’m sure John will talk to him in a way where he won’t be mad at you. He seems like a good guy too.”

“He is,” the blonde nodded, feeling it in his bones.

Brian finished the dishes and he searched Roger’s face. “Do you… love him, Rog?” He asked in a mere whisper, as if he was afraid the other men would overhear them.

“I… I don’t know, Bri,” Roger shrugged helplessly. “I feel _something_ towards him, something strong and…I just reacted. In the moment it felt right, but I knew I made a mistake.” He whispered his answer back just a low.

The guitarist nodded in understanding and glanced at the clock. “Well, I do hope we get all this figured out soon. We need some time to practice before our gig.”

Roger sighed in anticipation, nodding in agreement before he forced himself to sit down at the table, glancing over at Freddie and John’s bedroom door, wondering how it was going in there. He felt a tightness in his chest and couldn’t help but feel grateful when Brian said he was going to his van to get his guitar and their songs.

He needed to mentally prepare for the worst once they were done in there.

Maybe Freddie would come out yelling at him, threatening to cut his balls off if he kissed John ever again. Maybe there would be a quiet understanding between them and things would be okay.

All Roger could do now was wait.


	12. blackout

****

**.    .    .**

Roger had no idea what the two men discussed inside the bedroom together but when they came back out, they both had loving smiles on their faces; He wanted to take as a good sign.

He straightened when Freddie came over and gave him a half cautious, half grin smile before he placed his hands on his shoulders.

“Well, darling, it looks like the three of us are going to be involved in quite the unique love triangle, not you and me, of course but… John discussed his plight and it seems that you we’ll be in a type of polyamory relationship, if you are all right with that, of course, Roger.”

Roger glanced over at John whose cheeks were red but he was giving the drummer a reassuring smile. He wasn’t a hundred percent sure what all of this would entail but at least he would be able to kiss John without Freddie wishing to murder him. He looked a bit hesitantly at the singer.

He looked a bit hesitantly at the singer. “I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. Y-You’re okay with this? I mean, with… my feelings for John?”

Freddie nodded and gave him a warm smile. “Yes, darling… of course I’m perfectly okay with your feelings for him. Do you want to know a secret?”

Roger nodded slowly, searching Freddie’s face.

“Roger, dear, it’s become painfully apparent to me that you can’t help who you love, and if you feel a connection to another human being, you shouldn’t let break it because another person is involved in a relationship with that person. I know we haven’t known each other very long, darling, and by no means am I asking you to do _anything_ with me, but I just want you to know that I care very much about you, and Brian as well, and I just want you and John to be happy.”

Roger felt his heart swell in his chest and he couldn’t help but grin brightly. He felt so happy in this moment that he felt like he could cry. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Freddie in a hug. “Thank you so much, Fred! You don’t know how much this means to me.”

The singer hugged Roger back and then casually pulled back again, smiling. “Just keep in mind that if you hurt John, physically or otherwise, I will undoubtedly hurt you, Roger.”

The drummer nodded in understanding and chuckled at the thought of ever hurting John. “Of course… I won’t. I promise. Thanks again, really.”

“Of course, darling. We have a gig tomorrow. Shall we practice a bit now?” He looked around at everyone in the room.

They all seemed relieved at the suggestion and they all went into the room where Freddie had his piano and the rest of their instruments set up. They practiced for a good four hours, mostly trying to get used to each other’s’ timing and playing, and in the process, finding out how impatient they could also get with each other. It was about seven when Brian made them all stop because a headache was forming on his temporal lobe.

“Let’s call it, gents. We’ve got it down pretty well, I think. We should be all set tomorrow, and I’m sick of everyone yelling at each other for being a second off,” Brian announced.

“A single second can make a world of difference, darling,” Freddie argued tiredly.

Brian put a hand to silence him and he set his guitar down, wiping the sweat that had formed on his face. “I’m going to head back home to Chrissy and go to sleep. You should get some sleep as well.” He glanced over at Roger and grabbed his case for his guitar and zipped it up.

“Rog, can you walk me out, please?”

The drummer was about to argue when he saw the pointed look Brian gave him when he had asked. Roger nodded and then opened the door for Brian before closing it behind them and followed him back to his van.

He watched the older man put his guitar in his van carefully but he looked distracted. “You all right, Bri?”

“Yeah, fine,” he asked a bit quickly before he turned and looked at Roger. “Are you?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I mean… why wouldn’t I? I got what I wanted.”

“I’m just worried this isn’t going to end well for you, Roger,” Brian explained with concern in his voice. “You’re still sharing John with him. You’re okay with that?”

Roger couldn’t help but feel a bit sour. He bit back all the other things he wanted to say to his friend. “It’s still more than I would’ve gotten before. I’m lucky that Freddie’s all right with this, Brian. I’m lucky that he didn’t kick my arse!”

“I know,” Brian sighed. “I’m just saying, if something were to happen, you’re going to be the only one who doesn’t come out on top in this situation. Freddie is more likely to believe John over you in anything, and if you do hurt John, even accidentally… you won’t have a leg to stand on.”

Roger scoffed now, shaking his head. “I guess I can’t ask you to be on my side, can I? You have a really hard time with loyalty.”

Brian stiffened now and he looked at the drummer with hurt eyes. “What exactly is that supposed to mean, Rog? I was on your side tonight when you told me how you felt towards John! How can you say I’m not on your side? I don’t care who you love, Roger! I’m always on your side.”

The drummer gave a dismissive nod. “Yeah, sure you are.”

Brian reached out and gently grabbed Roger to stop him as he turned around to leave. “Hey, come on, mate. Let’s talk about this. We have a gig tomorrow; I don’t want us to get on that stage with something going on between us. Go on, then. Air out your grievances.”

Roger took a deep breath.

“You didn’t move in with us…”

“What?”

“When I moved out to move in with John and Freddie, you didn’t move with me!” Roger yelled.

Brian gave a shake of his head. “Roger, I told you… I had met Chrissy and we had moved in together. It was just… rotten timing. If I hadn’t met her and gotten so close to her so fast, I would’ve moved with you.”

The drummer ran his hand through his hair. “Are you happy with her?”

A moment of hesitation.

“Yes, are you happy with John?” There was a slight edge to the guitarist’s voice and Roger wondered what it meant.

“Yes.”

“Good, then. I’m happy for you both.”

Roger swallowed hard, unsure if Brian actually was or not. He was acting strangely and he had never heard that tone of voice before with him. “See you tomorrow. You’ll have to meet us here and drive us over to the gig tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I know,” Brian nodded.

A thick heaviness hung in the air between them now.

“Fine. Goodnight.”

Brian didn’t bother to say it back but slammed the door to his van a bit harder than he probably should have before he drove away.

Roger groaned in frustration at the tension between them now and forced himself to go back inside. He made himself calm down before he hesitantly entered Freddie and John’s bedroom before he moved over to John’s side.

The bassist, not yet asleep, smiled sleepily and opened the sheet up for Roger to crawl in beside him, which the drummer happily and eagerly did so. He’d deal with Brian tomorrow but at least he could temporarily forget about it for tonight.

 

**………….. .. ………………….**

The next morning and afternoon wasn’t much better. Roger was able to stay close to John, who didn’t seem to mind very much at all, but all he could think about was the rift with Brian. They hadn’t had many serious fights and although last night may not have counted as a fight, Roger felt that something was wrong between them.

The three of them spent time practicing and smoking until six o’ clock in the evening when Freddie came over to Roger and John who were cuddling together and sharing a cigarette on the couch.

“It’s show time, loves,” he smiled at both of them lovingly.

They got up just as Brian knocked on the door before letting himself inside, holding up the keys.

“Are we ready to load up the equipment and be on our way?” He avoided Roger’s gaze as the drummer stood up, barely even waving at him in acknowledgment.

“Yes, darling. You know where we all keep them so go ahead and start loading it in the van,” Freddie nodded, putting his boots on.

“Rog, want to help me?” The way he said it made Roger feel like he didn’t have a choice in the matter so he just nodded and gave a hum before he began to help the guitarist take apart his drum and started taking it out to the van.

“Are we going to have a problem, Bri? Because if we are –"

Brian stiffened. “What are you talking about, Roger? I thought we hashed everything out last night? Did you forget about something else that you want to give me shit for?”

The drummer tensed and sighed, searching his face. “I don’t know, Brian! I just… I-I feel like there’s something between us right now, like a goddamn wall, and I hate it. I fucking hate it. It wasn’t like this until you saw that me and John got together so what is it? Do you not like him?”

Brian did everything he could to avoid his friend’s eyes as he walked back inside to get the rest of the drum kit, plus John’s bass and then walked back outside to the van.

“Hey!” Roger suddenly pushed him after the equipment was loaded in. “Don’t ignore me! Talk to me! Look at me!”

Brian was taken back by Roger’s anger but he turned around and looked at him. “I like John just fine. I don’t have a problem with him or Freddie.”

“So what exactly is… this?” Roger motioned between them. “Why are we off?”

Brian sighed heavily, looking like he was carrying a large rock on his back. “I don’t know, Rog. I… I feel it too. I think after tonight’s gig, it’s best if we just… not hang out for a while, yeah? I need to spend time w-with Chrissy.”

Roger couldn’t believe he was hearing. “You’re joking! Not hang out for a while? We’re a band, Brian! We need to play gigs and do shows and get paid. That’s what bands do. We have to hang out.”

The older man was looking a bit impatiently at Roger. “You know what I mean, Roger. We’ll still play shows and I’ll still help you like I am right now but… I mean after the show and in between. Like I said, I need to spend more time with Chrissy.”

He heard it the first time Brian had mentioned it but hearing it again just sent daggers through Roger’s heart. “Spend time with her?! You live with her, Brian! You go home to her every night! I don’t understand! Why? Why are you being like this? Why don’t you want to hang out anymore?”

Roger felt silly for being on the verge of tears but it was only because he was so angry and confused.

“For Christ’s sake, just stop, Roger! Please! Just… be quiet for two seconds!” Brian suddenly outburst, searching his face. “God, you can’t make anything easy, can you?”

The words cut Roger to his core and he took a couple steps backwards, feeling his heart break. “S-Sorry…”

He saw apology touch the other man’s eyes and he opened his mouth but Freddie and John both came out of the house, looking between the two men.

“Are we going to spend the whole night out here chit-chatting or are we going to go play the gig?”

Roger glanced over at Freddie and climbed into the back of the van with the instruments and John Deacon before they started towards the venue. He felt John’s worried eyes on him but lit a smoke to try and calm himself.

They got there a bit later than they had liked to and quickly set up before taking their places on stage. Brian introduced them all as the new Smile band, to which they received a lukewarm reaction. They opened with their first song “Keep Yourself Alive,” did a Led Zeppelin cover, did another original song, did another cover, and so on. This went on for a good hour and a half before they finally ended, all of them soaked in sweat from the bodies in the room and the hot lights.

Brian didn’t want to stay with them so he told Freddie that he would keep their instruments in the van until he saw them again in a few days. Roger and John glanced over at the singer who didn’t look too pleased about it but nodded and said it was okay before Brian left them.

John watched as Freddie walked over to the bar to get them drinks and turned to Roger. “Is everything all right with you and Brian?”

Roger sighed tiredly, wiping his sweat on his shirt and shook his head before he just shrugged. “He’s got his girlfriend. He wants to be with her.”

The bassist bit his lip. “How do you feel about her? Do you like her?”

Roger nodded. “Yeah, she’s nice enough,” he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag from it. “I want to hate her, because…” he sighed but to his relief, John nodded, apparently in understanding. “But I can’t even hate her because she’s so fucking nice to me.”

John chuckled softly. “So… you love him? Brian?”

He tensed a little but nodded, feeling his heart beating out of his chest. “It doesn’t matter though because… he’s with her, and… I think I might be seriously falling for you, Deaky,” he smirked.

John blushed and smirked back.  “I think I’m falling for you too, Roger.”

Roger smiled brightly now and was grateful when Freddie came back with drinks in tow. The men spent the next few hours drinking and smoking and _not_ discussing Brian, which was just fine with the drummer. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was what he was doing with Chrissy possibly.

Roger didn’t want to think about Brian’s bare back, or his long, slender fingers and how they might feel caressing the blonde’s skin. He didn’t want to think about straddling his waist and caressing his shoulders, and he most definitely did not want to think about how Brian’s soft lips tasted.

_Fuck._

The rest of the night was a blur, and Roger was at least 70% sure that he had done some questionable narcotics at one point. He drank until the room was spinning, and he didn’t remember anything else after that. 


	13. stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just a quick poll. 
> 
> Deacy? Or Deaky? What do you call our precious son?
> 
> Reply with your comment! :)

**.   .   .**

Roger woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and a churning stomach, along with aches and pains he otherwise couldn’t account for.

He groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, the bed spinning beneath his body, or rather, his head was spinning to make it look like the bed was. He felt an arm around him and by the strength of it, he knew it was John Deacon; he was grateful to at least no wake up alone this time.

“How are you feeling, Rog?” John asked softly, moving his hand comfortingly in circles along the drummer’s back.

Roger groaned again, holding his head in agony. “Like I was hit by a train. What the hell happened last night, Deacy?”

“Hold on,” the younger man insisted as he got off the bed. Roger heard him hurry towards the bathroom, and then into the kitchen a few seconds later before returning. “Here first, take these and then I’ll tell you,”

Roger slowly sat up, trying to swallow the nausea he felt as he reached out for the small glass of water and the two aspirin in John’s hands. He swallowed them cautiously before he set the water on the nightstand and lay on his back, looking up at John expectantly.

“Let’s see… you had about five pints of lager and then Freddie got you started on the harder stuff. You had two tumblers of straight vodka, one bourbon and one whiskey – "

Roger held up a hand to stop him now, feeling the nausea hitting his throat. He shook his quickly. “F-Forget what I drank. Move on to what I actually did, please, John?”

The bassist smirked and nodded. “Okay, okay. Anyway, you danced with us for a couple hours, got into at least two fights, one of which you won, offered us about a gram of cocaine, came onto at least three other blokes, and you managed to somehow get the three of us free drinks at one point.”

Roger regretted asking now, wondering exactly what all he had done, wishing that someone had somehow caught it all on camera so he could see the pictures from it. He tried to think back but it felt like bits of his memory were just completely wiped from his brain, blank spaces where there should be memories.

“Sounds like I had a pretty good time,” he remarked quietly, looking up at John with regret and apology in his eyes.

He expected John to look upset, angry, betrayed, but instead he was met with almost amused eyes with love in them; he didn’t understand. John should be completely disappointed with him.

“You sure looked like you had a good time.”

Roger bit his lip and searched the young bassist’s face. “I’m sorry, Deacy. I don’t remember coming onto anyone else, or… anything after drinking or the drugs. I mean, I _vaguely_ remember the drugs at all…”

John chuckled and shook his head. “I know I should be upset with you, but I can’t be. I’m just glad that you at least had the sense not to do too many drugs, and… you came home with me, so I can’t even be mad at you for coming onto anyone else.”

Roger felt a mixture of shame and relief that just made his stomach churn even harder than before. For the first time ever, he felt… _embarrassed_ by his behavior. Even with Brian before, he hadn’t felt embarrassed by his behavior. He had always just thought of it as innocent fun, and the guitarist usually got him out of bars before he had the chance to properly embarrass himself or both of them.

“I don’t usually say this very often, Deacy, but I’m sorry. I think…” he sighed heavily, afraid to admit this aloud. “I think I acted like I did last night because of Brian. He just… messed me up inside and I just wanted to numb myself, you know?”

John nodded, his facial expression changing to a slightly more serious look now. Roger was waiting for the scolding now but his body had other plans; instead, the drummer found himself leaping off the bed and running towards the bathroom, falling to his knees quickly in front of the toilet before emptying out the contents quickly.

He hurled up the alcohol from last night, the burning hitting his throat as it came back up. The nausea didn’t cease for a few minutes and after that he ironically felt better, sitting against the wall of the bathroom.

John came inside wet a washcloth before he knelt down beside Roger and dabbed at his feverish skin before lowering his head down and placing the cool cloth on the back of his neck.

“I figured all of this is probably punishment enough. Anyway, I know you’re hung up on Brian, but… he has a girlfriend and…” John paused for several moments, apparently thinking how to choose his words but finding his own selfishness getting in the way. “I’m not exactly sure if he even plays for our team.”

Roger felt his heart breaking and he looked up at John, feeling confused at first but then realizing what the younger man was saying.

John didn’t think Brian was even bisexual, forget homosexual. He thought that Brian is only straight.

It wasn’t as if there was evidence to prove otherwise; Roger had only ever seen his friend hang out with women and he had even accidentally walked in on Brian having sex with a woman at one time. He had heard it several other times though, so as far as Roger knew, maybe his friend really was straight as a nail.

Deep down, Roger had always suspected, and he had even feared that Brian wasn’t bisexual, but to hear it come out of John’s mouth seemed to make his fear real. He took the cloth from his neck and held it in his hands.

“Maybe y-you’re right, John,” he conceded, nodding slowly out of fear of the nausea returning again. “Maybe I should… just give up on him in that way.”

John shrugged now and met Roger’s eyes with soft ones. “I’m not sure what you should do or feel, Rog. I’m just saying maybe… you’re wasting your time expecting Brian to love you back in a meaningful way, is all.”

Roger nodded, having felt this as well. He swallowed hard and he hated that he felt tears in his eyes at the thought of never being able to kiss the guitarist. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach.

Roger moved quickly over to the toilet again before everything came back up again a second time. He felt John gently caress his back again and soon the nausea passed as he was able to relax.

Then he heard footsteps running towards the bathroom and he looked up to see Freddie.

“Oh, darling, I had a feeling you’d be in this condition! Can’t say I’m very surprised, though… you did have quite a bit of… recreational fun last night,” the singer commented.

“Not helpful, Fred,” Roger groaned, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

“Right,” Freddie agreed. “Go back to bed, Rog. I’ll go make some tea and some dry toast and I’ll bring it right in the second it’s done!” Without waiting for a reaction from Roger or John, the singer rushed off towards the kitchen.

John chuckled and he looked at Roger before he reached out and caressed the drummer’s cheek. “That’s something you’ll have to get used to if you want to be with me, I’m afraid. Freddie loves to take care of people.”

Roger smirked and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Get used to? Trust me, I can definitely get used to Freddie taking care of me every time I have a hangover, Deacy.”

“I’m a bit independent naturally so I had a bit of difficulty with being doted on but I must admit, it’s very nice once I got used to it,” John confessed, smiling.

Roger watched as John stood up and then held out a hand to help him up. “You’ll feel a bit better if you take a shower before crawling back into bed. Do you want a hand with that too?”

An excitement squirmed in the drummer’s stomach now as it quickly blossomed into butterflies at the idea of having a shower with John for the first time, and then a slight nervousness took over at the possibility of what it could transform to.

“Umm… I-I’ve never… you know?” Roger tried to explain quickly as the palms of his hands began to sweat nervously.

John raised an eyebrow before a small, loving smile spread across his face again. “It’s just going to be a shower, Roger. I promise. I just want to help you.”

His words comforted the blonde and he relaxed before nodded. “All right. Thanks, Deacy.” He groaned in pain as he tried to take off his shirt, which John had to help him with. He could feel the bruises all over his body and didn’t bother trying to take down his own pajama bottoms that Freddie or John must have put on him last night after bringing him back home with them, and let John take them down instead.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much, Roger,” John laughed softly as he took off Roger’s pants and underwear before turning on the shower and helped him inside carefully.  He started to take off his own clothes now.

Roger smirked, watching him with admiration. “Maybe, but to be fair, I’ve also sort of been waiting to be this close to you for a while.” He moved under the shower head to wet his hair.

John quickly stepped in now and pulled the curtain closed, moving behind Roger before grabbing the 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. “A while, huh? So… by that, you mean you’ve been waiting a whole six days since you met us?”

Roger was distracted at first by the question; he had been too preoccupied feeling John’s naked front bumping into his back clumsily, trying to will his body not to react. He glanced behind him to see John smiling at him.

“Y-Yeah, guess so. Well, you know what they say, Deacy, love at first sight, and all that.”

John chuckled and squirted a chunk of shampoo/conditioner on his hands. “All right, love. Close your eyes. This will burn if it gets in them.”

Roger closed his eyes and let John wash his hair. The feel of John’s fingers gently massaging his scalp was a sensation he’d never before and it was oddly calming. He let him gently push him into the water again and helped rinsed it out of his hair before moving back and changing positions with John so he could do the same for him.

He hoped it felt as good for John as it had for himself.

“So are the bruises really as bad as they feel?”

John chuckled as Roger massaged his hair this time with shampoo/conditioner. “Only a few here and there. For the most part, they’re small… just all over the place.” When he felt the drummer was done washing his hair, he moved into the water to rinse himself off.

Roger examined his wet limbs. “Christ, it looks like I got ran over by several cars! I can’t believe I just got these from fights…”

John turned to face him and laughed, a wide grin on his face now.

“Oi, I’m so glad that you’re getting a laugh from my pain, John!” The drummer joked, looking teasingly hurt.

His comment just made the bassist laugh harder until he was nearly doubled over with laughter. He pulled himself together a few minutes later and looked at Roger with joyful tears in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry,” he still chuckled. “I’m… i-it’s just… oh god! You’re more dramatic about bruises than Freddie is! I think it was possible for anyone to out drama Fred, but oh god, Rog… you win first prize!”

Roger shook his head but was smiling as he lightly pushed John. “I’m serious,” he laughed. “They really do hurt!”

John started laughing all over again as he grabbed a clean loofa and squeezed the body wash on it before started to wash Roger’s skin. Then they heard another voice by the bathroom door.

“If you gentlemen continue to laugh in there, I’m going to assume you’re having too much fun and I will come and join you!”

“NO!” John and Roger both yelled out in unison, causing them to laugh all over again.

Once both of them had washed and rinsed, they towel dried each other off and wrapped the towels around their waists before walking into their bedroom to change.

John changed into jeans and a bottom down shirt before he buttoned it up and put socks on but Roger changed into fresh underwear and a different pair of pajama bottoms without bothering to change into a shirt, feeling too warm still. He didn’t feel like going back to bed though anymore; after the shower he was feeling far too awake.

Instead, he opted to grab his tea from Freddie and sat down on the couch beside John who also had a fresh cuppa. Albeit hot, it felt soothing, like a warm hug. Then the singer placed a plate of dry toast in front of him on the coffee table.

“Thank you, Fred.”

“Of course, dear… I hate to see either of you feeling under the weather. I know that hangovers are simply no fun, either. Is there anything else I can do for you, Roger?”

The drummer smiled and shook his head. “No, thanks. I think I’m good now. You’ve done so much for me already. Take a seat with us?”

“Take a seat? When there’s so much cleaning to be done? Perhaps I’ll join you two a bit later.” He hurried off now with cleaning supplies now to clean the bathroom.

Roger glanced over at John. “Another thing I’ll have to get used to?”

The bassist chuckled, nodding before he took a sip of his tea. “Yep. Two things Freddie is good at is caring and cleaning, which works out fantastic because I don’t clean up very well.”

“Yeah,” Roger nodded. “Me either. Hey, my cigarettes are still the room. Can I bum one of yours?”

John glanced over at him with concerned eyes. “You should really put some food in your stomach. Eat at least one piece of toast first, and then I’ll give you a cigarette.”

“You’re bribing me!” Roger accused in disbelief.

John chuckled and shrugged. “I’m looking out for you, Rog. Now come on, _eat_ , please.”

The blonde grumbled but took a piece of dry toast and took a bite. Despite it not having any jam or butter on it, it actually wasn’t too bad, or perhaps it was just because Roger was so hungry after emptying his stomach earlier.

“Freddie has a lot of hangovers so he makes sure to get flavorful bread,” John smirked, as if reading Roger’s thoughts. He took another sip of tea, watching his boyfriend devour the bread until it was all gone.

He set his tea cup down before grabbing the package of cigarettes from the table nearby and his lighter, placing the cigarette between his lips and lit it before he passed it off to Roger who took it eagerly and instantly took a drag from it.

“Better?”

Roger exhaled a sigh of relief, a small wisp of smoke hanging in the air now as he did so. “Better.”

They chatted for a few hours when there was a knock on the door and John started to get up to get it but Roger was feeling much better now so he motioned for John to sit back down. He hurried over to the door and opened it up to see a man he didn’t recognize.

The man looked at Roger with a look that made the drummer uncomfortable. “Roger? Roger Taylor?”

The blonde shifted his weight now but tried to stand up straight to make himself look bigger and more confident. “Sorry, who are you again?”

“You don’t remember me…” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. “You were pretty stoned last night; I figured you wouldn’t remember. Anyway, I’m James, James Williams. We had a pretty good time last night. I have to say, Roger, I’m a bit offended you don’t remember me.”

_We had a pretty good time last night._

_Fuck. What the hell did he do? Did he have sex with this guy? What the fuck?_

He looked the guy up and down. This guy wasn’t exactly his type. He was tall, but had muscle in his arms, more than he cared for in another man. He had short, dirty blonde hair, and bright green eyes that seemed to shoot arrows right through him in a way that made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable.

He glanced over at John who seemed to be looking at the two with worried eyes. He didn’t want to worry John any more than he already had.

Roger moved outside and closed the door behind him; this was his own problem to deal with. He did this to himself.

“I-I gave you this address?” Roger asked, unable to see himself giving out the address of his friends’ place to a stranger.

James raised an eyebrow and gave a chuckle of disbelief. “You did. You really don’t remember?”

“Hey, I’m sorry, but I still don’t know who you are. I was pretty shitfaced last night. To be fair, though, I don’t remember a lot that happened last night, not just you,” Roger spoke to him.

James Williams scoffed. “Maybe I can help you remember.”

Before Roger knew what was happening, his back was pressed against the flat building and this man was kissing him roughly, even starting to caress the drummer’s waist. He didn’t like this; not at all. It was a sour reminder of Liam.

He tried to push him away but James was too strong and he felt the foreign tongue crash over his in his mouth. This time, he pushed back harder, despite his bruised body. He was starting to realize why he might have all the bruises.

“Stop it!” He yelled, looking at James with wide eyes. “I have a boyfriend! I’m not… interested in having another.”

The other man looked at him with an amused expression and laughed. “You said that last night, right before you started making out with me. Don’t fool yourself, Roger. You know you want it. You want me just as much as I want you. You were all over me last night! We had a great time.”

Roger felt sick all over again. His fear was building up, his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage, and his fear was making him angry. “Forget this fucking address! Don’t ever come here again or else you’re going to regret it!”

He quickly hurried back inside the flat and locked the door behind him. He nearly ran into John who had stood up and come over. The bassist placed his hands on Roger’s arms to steady both of them.

“Who was that? Are you all right, Rog?”

The drummer forced himself to calm down, not wanting to yell at John. He took a deep breath and nodded. “Y-Yeah, I’m… I’m fine. It was just someone I wasn’t expecting to see.”

From John’s look, it was clear that the younger man didn’t recognize him, which meant he wasn’t around last night when Roger had been with James. They had gone off somewhere private and done god knows what.

He sat back down on the couch and lit another cigarette before he took a drag. He saw John sit back down beside him and he was staring at him.

“Roger, please tell me who that was. I don’t care if it was an ex-whatever, just… tell me. You sounded scared outside when you were with him. Who is he?”

“He’s no one, John. Just… drop it, yeah?” Roger exhaled before taking another long drag.

John’s brows knitted together and he shook his head. “Hey, Rog… I’m not going to judge you, whatever happened with this guy. Your problems are mine now, and Freddie and I are both here for you now. You don’t need to go through this shit alone anymore.”

John’s willingness to help Roger touched his heart, but it also made him want to protect him all the more. He didn’t want his own self-destructive behavior last night to affect John; he didn’t deserve that. He deserved the _whole fucking world._

Roger put on a brave face. “I wasn’t scared. He was just a friend. It’s really all right. Hey, come on. Let’s play Scrabble or something. I’ll make us some more tea.”

John looked somewhat suspicious still but it was evident he was going to let it go for now. “Just get Fred. I’ll make us the tea.”

Roger smiled, grateful that John wasn’t going to push this, at least not today. “Freddie!! Come on! We’re playing Scrabble!”

The singer skidded into the living room in his socks, holding up the cleaner bottle. “Not without me, you aren’t, loves! Set me up, I’m just going to clean myself up real quick so I don’t smell absolutely hideous.” He ran back to the bathroom to shower.

Roger set up the tiles for the three of them and after John came back with tea, and Freddie came back as well, they spent the next few hours playing multiple games of Scrabble. Things even got interested when Freddie decided to jump up and get alcohol to add to the game.

“Freddie, no,” John pleaded meekly. “Roger’s had enough alcohol. Why do you want to add to his hangover?”

Roger chuckled. “That’s not fair! I’m feeling much better now…”

Freddie pointed to Roger. “See? Anyway, a little bit of the hair of the dog that bit him can only help him at this point, I think.”

John threw his arms up in the air helplessly. They continued playing and drinking and although the fun had helped Roger forget about James but the man was still at the back of his mind. He hadn’t forgotten about him, and he didn’t think he could.

Best case scenario was that James took the hint and disappeared from Roger’s world forever. He had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen, though.


	14. numb

**.    .   .**

 

  
The next morning, Roger was fighting to try to get out of bed. It felt safer in the warm comfort of the bed beside Freddie and John, though, with the bassist in the middle. He could feel himself falling hard for the other two musicians and even though he felt love for them, Roger also couldn’t help the aching in his broken heart for Brian.

Maybe it was because Brian May was amazingly smart.

Or a good cook.

Or helped the drummer with anyone and everything.

Maybe it was because Brian bailed him out of jail when he found himself in trouble.

Or maybe Roger was just into older men as well.

All he knew was that there was something about the guitarist that made Roger’s knees weak and his heart skip a beat. He felt similarly with John, of course, but Brian had been Roger’s first male crush, from the first time he had met him several months ago.

_Stop thinking about him! He doesn’t even love you; he barely even likes you!_

Roger sighed and realized he didn’t ever want to leave the bed. He swallowed hard, trying not to let depression settle in his chest. He knew if he let it, then he’d never get out of this bed. He reached out and softly traced John’s jawline with his fingers.

“Am I really that fascinating, Rog?” the young bassist asked in a sleepy whisper as he opened his eyes to look at Roger.

He smiled to himself. “Yes, Deaky, you are. I don’t think I’ve ever actually stayed the whole night with a man to wake up next to him again the next morning.”

John’s smile grew brighter. “Well, Roger Taylor, I suppose I should be flattered then.”

“I suppose you should,” Roger smirked playfully. “Did you sleep all right?” He couldn’t bring himself to stop caressing John’s cheek but the other man didn’t seem to mind the light touch and started to mimic the motion back, reaching out to caress the drummer’s cheek as well.

Roger closed his eyes, smiling brightly. Feeling his gentle touch was so unbelievably nice that he felt silly for liking it so much.

“I slept very well, how about you?”

Roger wet his lips and nodded, his smile fading only a little. “I don’t sleep well when I’m not here next to you,” he whispered. “I-I always get nightmares… panic attacks.”

John looked at him with concern in his eyes now, placing his hand over Roger’s. “What are your nightmares about? What happens in them?”

Roger opened his eyes now and searched John’s face with hesitance. He was quiet a long time. “Mostly… about being hurt by my father, or… someone else I was kind of with before.”

The other man’s eyes grew sad at the thought of Roger being hurt by anyone, period. The thought terrified the bassist. He leaned in and kissed Roger’s lips softly before he pulled back.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again, Roger.”

he blonde knew that John meant the words, but he knew it would be an empty promise. John was small, and didn’t stand a chance against Roger’s father if he ever had the displeasure of running into him, and he could try to fight Liam, maybe get a few good punches in, but Roger knew that even against him, John would be hurt.

He didn’t want to involve John when it came to his abusers, though. He wouldn’t.

He downright refused to.

“Thanks, Deaky. I know you believe that… but… you’ll never have to meet either of them. The last thing I’d ever want is for either you or Freddie to get hurt.”

John gently tucked a lock of blonde hair behind Roger’s ear, running his hand over his shoulder. “Brian know about them, and what they did to you?”

He nodded. “Yeah, he knows. I mean, he knows about my father, but… only a little bit about the other guy I was with. I can’t even really call him a boyfriend. We never even…” Roger trailed off, feeling his anxiety increasing just thinking about the time in the van where they almost did.

“Hey,” John hushed softly. “It’s okay, Rog. You don’t need to even think about all of that right now. Not with me. Come on, let’s go make some coffee.”

The drummer relaxed slightly now and nodded, grateful to be a part of John’s love life. He felt like the bassist was definitely his better half. Roger felt so broken inside, like his heart had been stomped on, his lungs crushed, and all three organs shoved back inside his ribcage lazily before being taped back up again.

John moved out of bed first before he took Roger’s hand and led him towards the kitchen. He quickly made coffee for the two of them before he lit a cigarette and handed it to Roger before lighting one for himself as well.

“Cheers,” Roger thanked him quietly before he took a satisfying drag from it before he sat down at the counter.

John gave him a loving smile and poured coffee for both of them before he sat down beside him. There was something Roger appreciated about the younger man that made him relaxed in his presence, a calming aura about him, or whatever it was called.

Despite his anxiety, he smiled back at his boyfriend before he rested the cigarette between his fingers and took a sip of his coffee.

“Good morning, lovelies!” a joyous voice broke through their comfortable silence.

Roger and John both turned back to see Freddie bounce into the kitchen with a bright smile on his face when he glanced up at the two both with love in his own eyes.

“Morning, Freddie,” Roger replied.

“Good morning…”

“How are we all doing this morning?” He looked between them after pouring himself a cup of coffee. He reached over and bummed a cigarette from John before lighting it.

“We’re doing all right.”

Freddie looked over at Roger with a cautious look. “Is that true, Rog?”

He gave a nod, looking back down at his coffee.

He felt Freddie looking over at John for answers but the bassist simply shrugged. Roger felt the need to change the subject quickly before either man asked him any more questions.

“How are you so chipper in the morning? I don’t think I’m actually awake until lunch,” Roger remarked teasingly.

Freddie smirked. “What can I say? I love mornings, darling.”

John gave a small chuckle and rubbed his eyes sleepily. “He goes back and forth between loving and hating mornings. I’m starting to think it depends on what we’re doing that day.”

“So what _are_ we doing today?”

Freddie looked between the two men. “Well, I was thinking we could do a lunch with Brian today, actually. John and I have only practiced a couple times with him and I feel like we barely know him.”

Roger felt oddly excited until he remembered his last conversation with Brian; that hadn’t gone very well.

_“I think after tonight’s gig, it’s best if we just… not hang out for a while, yeah? I need to spend time w-with Chrissy.”_

The drummer felt his excitement instantly disappear and it was replaced with dread.

“He was all right with having lunch with us today?” Roger asked a bit skeptically, remembering Brian’s isolating words.

Freddie looked at him oddly. “Of course he was, darling. Why on earth wouldn’t he be?”

Roger thought about lying but he was mentally tired off always lying to them. He’d still keep his secret about James and Liam, but as far as Brian was concerned, maybe he could open up about them.

“Brian and I had a row before the gig the other night,” the blonde confessed, taking another drag from his cigarette. H-He… said he didn’t want him and I to hang out anymore, between shows and such.”

Freddie looked at John but the bassist gave a sad smile in return. The singer looked back at Roger.

“That’s… absolutely ridiculous. Why would he say such a thing? We’re a bloody band! He can’t expect you two never to ‘hang out’ when we need to practice. Thinking about it now, he was a bit reluctant when I first suggested today’s lunch to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” John finally spoke up, shaking his head. “The important thing is that he agreed to come, right, Freddie?”

The singer gave a hopeful smile and he nodded. “Indeed, it is, John. Perhaps we can figure this whole thing out with him and settle it for good.”

Roger tensed now at the thought of an intervention. “Wait, no. Don’t try to fix anything, Fred. This isn’t even your problem or John’s; it’s between me and Brian and I didn’t even want to involve you –"

Freddie put a hand up to silence him, shaking his head. “Nonsense, Roger. We’re a family now. I believe it’s important that we at least have some peace between all of us, if nothing else. If you really believe that this mess with Brian simply cannot be solved, I’d appreciate it if the two of you can at least put up a white flag and come to some sort of agreement so we don’t have to walk on eggshells around each other.”

Roger bit his lip but he nodded in understanding. Whatever was going on between Brian and him wasn’t good for the band. Freddie was right.

He put out his cigarette and drank the rest of his coffee. “All right, Fred.”

“Excellent. I’m going to go get ready. You two lovebirds don’t dawdle too long now.” Freddie grabbed a second cup of coffee before he hurried out of the kitchen towards the bedroom to get dressed.

John looked at Roger and smiled. “Want to have a shower?”

Roger nodded. He didn’t want Brian to see how depressed he was over him. He wanted him to see him as a functional adult who could handle anything in stride, even though Roger didn’t feel that way at all.

John finished his cigarette and put it out before he took the drummer’s hand and led him into the bathroom. Roger still felt a bit self-conscious at the sight of John’s pale, naked body but at the same time, he also felt incredibly lucky that got the privilege to be able to admire it.

After he washed up and got dressed, he could feel John’s eyes on him when Roger got to putting his socks and shoes on.

“You admiring my handsomeness, Deaky?” He joked.

John let out a soft chuckle but he was smiling. “Maybe I am… but… I mostly just want to ask if you’re all right with you us doing this. I know it’s last minute, and it was set up pretty quickly, but if you want, we can back out and just let Freddie talk to Brian by himself.”

Roger glanced up and searched his face. “He’s your boyfriend. You could go with him without me, if you wanted.”

John walked over and sat down beside the drummer. “You’re my boyfriend too, Rog. I don’t want to go somewhere without you. I… love you.”

The words took Roger by surprise but he smiled brightly. “I love you too, John.”

The bassist grinned and leaned in before he kissed Roger’s lips. He felt the electricity between them as he kissed him back. John reluctantly pulled away but was still smiling brightly. He reached over and laced his fingers with Roger’s.

“So… are you? Okay, I mean?”

Roger thought for a moment and sighed heavily before he gave a nod. “Yeah, I’m okay to go, Deaks.”

“I’ll be right there with you the whole time, Roger. If you’re afraid to see and talk to Brian again, you’re not going to be alone in doing it. Freddie and I will both be there with you.”

Roger relaxed a little and nodded. “Right. Thank you, John.”

A part of him felt silly to have to be told all this when he was seeing a friend, a best mate at that. From the way John had reminded him, it was as if Roger was being forced to see someone like Liam or his father again and he knew that Brian was nothing like either of those men.

He took another deep breath and forced himself up just as Freddie came in, looking as fashionable as ever.

“Are you darlings ready to leave yet? Or did you want to shag first before we leave, because you really must start now or else we’ll be late!”

John laughed and tickled Freddie’s sides, causing him to let out a squeal and the three men grabbed a cab, taking it to a nearby café to meet Brian.

 

**…………. .. ……….. …**

“As always, it’s wonderful to see you again, Brian,” Freddie greeted the guitarist with a smile as they sat down at a table.

“It’s great to see you too, Freddie,” Brian smiled back at him. “How are you three doing? Roger, are you adjusting well?”

The drummer stiffened when he heard Brian direct a question towards him. He nodded. “Y-Yeah, I am. How’s Chrissy doing?” He asked calmly, trying to take an interest in Brian’s separate life.

The guitarist nodded as well. “She’s very well, thanks for asking.”

John took Roger’s hand under the table and gently thumbed it soothingly, seeing the drummer’s anxiety. Roger thumbed his hand back gratefully.

Freddie took this moment to go up and order them all food and drinks.

There was a somewhat tense few moments once he had gone up, leaving Brian, John, and Roger alone. Roger did his best to avoid eye contact with the older man, hating that there felt like a brick wall between the two of them now.

Then Brian cleared his throat. “How are classes going? Have you had your exams yet?”

Roger visibly tensed now. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone to a class. Maybe two weeks ago. He had been so busy with moving in and practicing, the show, and then his hangover that he hadn’t even thought about his classes.

He shrugged. “I haven’t gone to any, but I bet exams already happened.”

Brian’s brows knitted in a confusing mixture of worry and disappointment. “Rog, you were so close to graduating, and you’re just going to take the F? This isn’t you. Sure, you skip classes once in a while, but you haven’t missed an exam. What’s going on, mate?”

Roger glanced over at John who just looked down at their hands, obviously trying to give the two of them some privacy without actually leaving Roger’s side. He looked back at Brian, not wanting to talk about everything that had happened with Liam and now James.

He felt like his depression and anxiety about everything that had happened was just that: his own. He didn’t want to stay here for hours and hours listening to Brian lecture him.

“Rog, talk to me… please,” Brian looked at his friend with concerned eyes. “What’s going on with you?”

The more words the guitarist spoke, the bitterer Roger felt. He shook his head and sighed. “Just stop, Bri. Stop acting like you actually give a shit about me. You don’t need to… pretend to care to look better in front of them. Just… stop.”

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, Rog. I _do_ care. I’ve cared about you forever… I’m worried about you. Nothing you’re saying makes any sense. You know I give a shit about you, Roger,” Brian said in a hushed whisper, trying to not make a scene. “I’m not pretending anything.”

Just then, Freddie set cups of tea in front of them and then a barista came along with plates of Danish and cookies and placed them on the table before disappearing. Roger looked at the food in front of him and felt sick to his stomach.

“It seems as though I’ve missed something. What’s going on, darlings?” Freddie sat down and looked between all of them.

Brian’s eyes darted to Roger’s uncovered arm now that his shirt had lifted up from, and he looked at his friend. “Roger, do you want to have a smoke outside?”

The question seemed innocent enough, maybe even considerate, but Roger knew why he was asking if he wanted to smoke.

Brian was going to question him.

Roger looked at John for help and the bassist looked at him almost sadly. He leaned in close so Freddie and Brian couldn’t hear them.

“I know you said how you wanted me with you when you talk to him, but… this sounds like something the two of you might need to sort out by yourselves, without me or Freddie present.”

Roger bit his lip but he nodded, knowing that John was right.

He looked at Brian and gave a nod before he stood up now and led the two of them outside before he lit a cigarette, feeling like he could really use the nicotine right now. He took a drag, trying to force himself to calm down before he turned to Brian who unsurprisingly wasn’t smoking.

“What’s happened to you, Rog? Why do you appear to have bruises all over your arms?” Brian grabbed his sleeves and moved them up to see the rest of the bruises.

Roger ripped his arms away from him, taking another drag. “They’re nothing!”

Brian moved in closer but let go of his arms. “So what happened? Are they hurting you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Was it your father? Did you go back to see him?” Brian persisted.

“No.”

Brian was starting to get impatient. “So who was it? Liam? Tim? It would be very helpful if you could give me something to work with…”

Roger sighed, exhaling smoke. “It wasn’t either of them. It doesn’t matter who it was! Just forget about it!”

Brian tucked his hair behind his ear before he walked away from Roger and then started to storm towards him. “You accused me of not giving a shit in there and now you won’t even open up to me when I’m trying to show you how much I actually do give a shit! You can’t have it both ways! That isn’t fair!”

The combination of Brian storming towards him almost threateningly and his yelling made Roger back up quickly, and Brian instantly took a step back before realizing his mistake and looked at the drummer apologetically.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry… I just, I want to help you and you’re shutting yourself off. You’re getting angry again… I know what this is turning into. I’ve seen you at your worst, and I don’t want it to get that bad.”

Roger took another drag as his mind trailed back to that awful month he had had with Brian. Brian had seen the bruises from his father but Roger didn’t want to tell him it had been him, he had started to do more hardcore drugs like cocaine, had started to drink excessively, had no temper with anyone, and had basically gone down a path of self-destruction.

He exhaled through his nose and looked at Brian. “I miss you. I miss you, and all I want is for you to move in with us. I want you… closer.”

“Roger… I have –"

“ – A girlfriend,” Roger finished for him. “I know. Believe me, you won’t let me forget it! Look, I… can’t even remember who gave these to me, all right? I just know that it happened the night of the gig, and… John said I had been getting into fights all night, so they’re probably from those.”

“You blacked out again,” Brian said in fear and realization now. “Did you use, Roger?”

The drummer swallowed hard now and shrugged dramatically. “I guess! I mean… I have a vague memory of me using recreational drugs so I must have. I don’t remember a lot of what happened after you left.”

“Don’t use me as an excuse to self-destruct, Roger,” Brian shook his head. “It’s not an excuse.”

The blonde took another drag before he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not, all right? I’m not using you as any excuse! I’m just letting you know when it happened! I just… remember drinking and… the drugs, and that’s it!

Brian sighed. “You’re drinking too. Lovely. I don’t think it’s good, you staying there with them.”

“That’s too bad, isn’t it? I’m…with John now, so you’re just going to have to deal with it. I’m living there, where you should be too! With me!” Roger hadn’t meant for it to come out like that but when the words left his lips, he didn’t regret it. It felt oddly good to hear it aloud.

“With you?” Brian echoed unsurely. He shook his head, his face contorted as if he were in physical pain. “I-I can’t… I’m… I’m with Chrissy.”

Roger was surprised Brian had gone that route of meaning instead of the obvious, but maybe now Roger could get out all his feelings right now.

“I know! You just can’t stop reminding me! My heart is fucking breaking with that constant reminder! You’re with _her_! You have a _girlfriend!_  She’ll never love you like I love you. Fuck it – I’ve loved you for a while now! But you just don’t care!” Roger was crying now, and he wasn’t sure if it was out of anger or hurt; maybe a mixture of both.

Brian swallowed hard. “I-I’m sorry, Rog. I… I care about you, a lot… but I just… can’t do that. I can’t b-be that for you.”

Roger saw the hesitance in Brian’s eyes and he knew he should be understanding. He knew he should apologize but he only found himself becoming enraged. He felt more tears running down his face and heard himself sob as he punched Brian and then saw his lip bleeding.

“Damn you! I hate you! I fucking hate you!” Roger sobbed, banging his fists against the older man’s chest now but now Brian had reached out and firmly grabbed his wrists to stop him.

“Stop this, Roger… please.”

The drummer fell against him, crying pathetically, before he breathed him in again. He smelled like… cedar, and… her perfume.

Roger pushed himself away and started to storm down the street to the nearest pub. He couldn’t go back inside and pretend anymore. He was hurting inside, and he just wanted to numb the pain, the heartache he was feeling.

“Wait! Roger!”

He ignored the plea, and pushed the doors open a few minutes later before he sat down on a stool and ordered one pint, two pints, three pints until he started to feel the numbness take over his body.


	15. trouble

**.    .    .**

Roger lost track of how many pints he had, but he did remember switching to whiskey at some point. He looked around the dark room from where he was laying on his stomach.

He could feel someone behind him, and the alcohol had numbed him pretty well but he could also feel thrusting inside of him. Roger reached out to try to stop whoever it was that was plowing into his body with such _anger_ and dominance but then he felt the person slam his head down onto the floor again.

He bit his lip hard, whimpering in pain as the metallic taste filled his mouth. He started to fight against his attacker but his limbs felt so fucking heavy, like they weighed ten tons each. Panic began to fill him and he felt tears touch his eyes as his attacker kept his head down against the floor in the dark room.

“Take it, baby...” the stranger ordered coldly. “Take it like the little bitch you are, Roger.”

_Wait._

_He knew that voice._

Roger vaguely remembered hearing it somewhere before.

His realization of who it was made him fight harder and when he was finally able to get his attacker out of him, he turned around but fell to his knees as the room spun wildly.

_James._

He felt sick.

James cleaned himself up before he pulled up his pants and smugly walked over to him before he gripped Roger’s face and forced him to look up at him.

“You’re mine, Roger… I have to say, I was awfully hurt when you said you didn’t remember me, but it’s a pleasure to see you remember me now,” James smirked. “The feeling in your body will pass, eventually, but I fear I may have given you too much,”

Roger shook his head and went to shove James angrily to get him away but James easily deflected it and then pinned the drummer to the floor instead, looking down at him.

“Now, now… you’re cute when you fight, but I prefer not to have to fight you. You probably still don’t remember this, but… you told me after your show a few nights ago that you’re mine… you wanted to be with me very badly,” James shrugged, a glint in his eyes. “So, you are mine now, Roger Taylor. You should get used to us having sex since… we’ll be doing that a lot now that we’re together.”

Roger shook his head but that didn’t help his nausea. “F-Fuck you! I’m… I’m with s-someone! W-Who the fuck do y-you think you –"

He was met with a sudden backhand now and he crawled away, holding his hand to his hot cheek now.

“ _That’s_ who the fuck I think I am. As my boyfriend, I don’t like being talked back to. You’re going to learn your place very quickly, dear Roger. I’ll see you around,” James leaned in and forcefully kissed Roger’s lips now and didn’t let go until he felt the drummer struggling to breathe.

Roger gasped for air when James finally moved away from him and walked out of the room. When he saw the door open, he realized they had been in some type of back room that had boxes of alcohol and glasses.

When James had finally left him alone, Roger couldn’t stop himself from vomiting on the floor. He was in so fucking deep right now, he didn’t even know how to get himself out.

Somehow, he had gotten into a relationship with this psychopath who got off on hurting him and who appeared very possessive over him. He didn’t even know how he got this far. He didn’t remember anything, which made him feel even more frustrated and upset.

He turned his numbed hand into a tight fist and punched it against the floor several times until he finally did feel pain against his skin. Roger rubbed his eyes roughly and forced himself off the floor, staggering a bit and did his jeans back up again. Opening the door, he saw that he was still in the bar he had stormed into earlier.

Roger swallowed hard and glanced at the clock, seeing that it was now nearly 4pm.

_Shit._

_He had been gone for about five hours._

He looked around for James but saw no sign of him. He took this opportunity and half limped out the door before he started to walk home. As the drunkenness started to wear off, he was feeling more than he wanted to with every minute that had passed.

He arrived at the flat about thirty minutes later and tried the knob but realized quickly it was locked. He reluctantly knocked on the door to be let in, not having his key on him.

A few minutes later, the door opened and he was relieved to see John, who instantly pulled him inside and then hugged him tightly. Roger winced a little, comprehending now that he might have more bruises on his body because he felt sore when the bassist hugged him.

“Roger… Brian and I went to the pub he saw you go into earlier after we were finished with lunch, and we couldn’t find you. I was so worried,” John searched his eyes desperately. “Where the hell did you go?”

The drummer shook his head, feeling himself trembling now. He was terrified as he thought about everything he didn’t remember, and terrified about what he could remember. It was now when he looked up and realized that Brian was standing nearby, looking worried.

He looked back John. “Y-You… you brought him back here?”

“No,” Brian corrected now. “I told him I was going to come back here with him until you came back. We need to help you, Roger…”

The blonde shook his head again, trying to limp away from them. “N-No… I… I don’t want to do t-this right now. Leave… please.”

Brian took a few steps towards Roger and put his hand on his friend’s shoulder but then quickly pulled it away when he heard Roger gasp in pain and wince straight after. The concern in his eyes grew.

“Roger… take off your shirt.”

The blonde bit his lip but he was also curious himself. He carefully undid his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders before he let it drop to the floor. John and Brian both instantly gasped as well in shock and both men looked protective and scared at the same time.

“Oh my god, Roger… who did this to you…?”

The drummer looked helplessly at them before he shook his head, the fight he had towards Brian gone now. “I-I don’t know.”

He wasn’t sure where Freddie was, but he was glad that he wasn’t here right now to worry about him as well.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Brian asked.

Roger swallowed hard, feeling sick again and despised himself for feeling tears in his eyes. He looked away before he forced himself to look back at the guitarist, shrugging again. He thought about telling Brian and John everything. He knew who did this to him, of course, now… but James was scary, unpredictable, possessive, and angry. He didn’t want to involve the people he loved into this situation he had created for himself.

Roger had dug this hole for himself, even if he couldn’t remember doing it. He felt like he had to lay in the hole, even if it was difficult to breathe at times.

He had to keep James a secret.

He cleared his throat. “I mean, I don’t know who did it, Bri. I got shitfaced at the pub. I don’t remember anything that happened,” he lied.

Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking at a loss. He looked as helpless as Roger felt. “You don’t… remember _anything?”_

“No,” Roger shook his head. “I just… got shitfaced and blacked out, and I was… sitting at the bar with a cigarette in my hand when I came to again.”

That was how he had wanted to be.

Brian came over and looked hesitant to touch him but walked over and carefully wrapped his arms around Roger and hugged him gently. Roger wanted so much to enjoy the feel of this moment but all he could think about was James and his rough touch.

He shrugged his way away from Brian’s hug and took a step back, seeing the hurt in the older man’s eyes. “S-Sorry… I just… can’t right now.”

“I’m sorry, Roger. I don’t know what you’re going through, but I can tell that whatever it is, it’s a lot, and you’re in pain. I just want to help you… I want to… be your friend.”

The drummer heard the sincerity in his voice, and he thought back to their fight earlier. It hadn’t even about Brian not caring because Roger knew he did care; it had just been about Roger going through his own shit combined with the frustration of the blackouts. He was taking out his anger at himself out on his best friend, and that wasn’t fair.

He felt calmer now, but maybe it was because he felt doped up. He felt dizziness take over his body and he felt sick again. This wasn’t just being drunk earlier. This was something else. He remembered now what James had told him...

How he might have given Roger too much.

Too much what?

_Fuck._

He couldn’t keep this from them, as much as he wanted to, but he needed actual help. Roger felt himself panicking and saw the corner of his vision turning black.

Roger felt John and Brian both come to his aid to steady him.

“I… I think… I drank something r-really bad,” he whimpered, feeling terrified.

Brian turned to look at him. “Really bad? Really bad how, exactly, Rog?” There was fear and panic in his voice as well.

Roger fell to his knees, his body feeling too weak to hold him up any longer. It had been a miracle he had even made it here at all. “I-I… I think I was drugged. I need to go to h-hospital…”

He was angry at himself that he couldn’t keep that a secret, but he was more afraid for his life. Who knows what else James had given him?

Brian nodded and he motioned for John to come with them as he helped Roger into the van and drove faster than Roger had ever seen him drive before to the hospital. The drummer blacked out before he could be asked any more questions, luckily.

 

**……….. … ……………..**

When Roger woke up again, he coughed and then held his throat in pain. He looked up to see John handing him a glass of water, of which he quickly finished in mere seconds to tame his dry, scratchy throat.

“Try not to speak,” John gently advised, reaching out to grab his hand in his own. “Brian told the doctors what you told us back at the flat, and they pumped your stomach. You had Rohypnol in your system, they say. Someone drugged you with the intentions to… to r-rape you.”

Roger bit his lip and looked down at his hands, still feeling tired and woozy. “Yeah… I figured as much.”

John gently squeezed his hand now and moved closer to him. “Did… fuck, Roger. Did someone… hurt you? Do you know what they did?”

Brian he could lie to, but looking at John, it was a lot harder. He loved him, so much. He swallowed hard, and with difficulty before he sighed before he reluctantly nodded. “You c-can’t tell Brian, though,” Roger ordered in a raspy voice. “Promise, Deaky.”

John was looking conflicted as he sighed heavily but he nodded. “T-The doctors, they should… check you out, make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay, John. Really,” he grated painfully. He didn’t want to go into any more detail. “Promise you won’t tell Brian or Freddie.”

The bassist looked hesitant but he nodded. “I… I promise. I want you to heal up first, but I want to talk about this at some point, what happened. I want you tell me what you remember, all right? No secrets between us.”

Roger nodded to save his voice and looked thirstily at the glass before he pointed to it. John gave him a loving smile and refilled his glass before handing it to Roger who drank it down again. The two men sat in a comfortable silence, holding hands.

“Where did Brian go?”

John caressed his hand. “He said there was an emergency and he had to go home. He said he’d come back and see you as soon as he could, though. He was really worried about you, Rog.”

The drummer nodded, gently thumbing John’s hand back. “What about Fred? Where is he?”

“Not entirely sure,” he confessed tiredly. “I think he’s looking for gigs for us. He doesn’t know about you being here or I’m sure he’d be here in a heartbeat.”

Roger was sure he would be too. “Then I guess it’s good he doesn’t know. I don’t need him to mother over me.”

John sat down beside him and searched Roger’s eyes, his own looking sad. “I-I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me earlier. I should’ve followed you. I d-don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I thought you’d come back.”

The blonde felt his heart ache as he listened to John’s stammering voice. It broke his heart to see the younger bassist look so helpless and sad. “I was trying to keep you out of it. I wanted to protect you, Deaky.”

“I don’t need protection, Roger. I just need you. I promised you before that I wasn’t going to let anything happen and then… you get hurt! You were… raped… and I wasn’t even there to protect you,” John suddenly burst into tears and started sobbing in his hands.

The scene broke Roger’s heart and he gently pulled John’s arm and pulled him into bed next to him. Despite his bruises, he hugged John against him tightly, breathing him in. He couldn’t bear to see John in any pain, emotional or physical.

“It’s not your fault, John. I promise you. It’s my own fault… I chose to get drunk. I shouldn’t have drank so much and blacked out. I should’ve been more aware. I promise none of what happened to me earlier was your fault.”

He wasn’t sure if the alcohol had made him black out or if it had been a post traumatic blackout, but either way, he felt responsible. He needed to make sure that John didn’t believe it was his own fault. It was the most important thing to Roger.

John buried himself into the other man’s chest, holding him back. “Being raped wasn’t your fault either, Rog. It wasn’t. You didn’t ask for it. You were drugged…”

Roger closed his eyes, still holding John close. The two men eventually fell asleep. When he woke up again, John was no longer laying against him, and Brian sat by his bedside, watching him with exhausted eyes.

His voice still felt hoarse but it did feel a little bit better, just mentally tired. Roger stressed his aching body and turned to look at Brian.

“Hey, Rog,” the guitarist whispered. “How’re you feeling, mate?”

The blonde shrugged.

“All right. Everything okay with Chrissy? John said there was an emergency.”

Brian leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his dark hair before he leaned forward. “Yes, Rog. Everything’s fine with her. She’s just… upset, that I keep coming to your rescue. That’s all.”

A pang of guilt hit him.

“Sorry…”

Brian shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. “It’s whatever, at this point. I told her how… you’re my best mate and I need to be there for you and she didn’t like that answer very much. Instead, she accused me of cheating on her.”

“Did you tell her that you’re not?”

Brian nodded before he suddenly leaned forward and put his face in his hands. “Not all cheating is physical, Rog.”

He didn’t understand what Brian was saying at first. He looked at him curiously. “What do you mean? Don’t you love her?”

“I do,” Brian confessed but looked torn. “I do love her, a lot… but… I also have feelings for you, Rog. I thought they were just… love-for-my-best-mate feelings but I realize now that they’re a lot more than that.”

Roger shook his head, finding this impossible. “You… you’re straight. You don’t like me like that. You have a girlfriend. You have Chrissy…”

The older man sighed and nodded before he looked at Roger with tears in his eyes.

_First John, now Brian. Christ, it was like everyone was feeling the need to confess to him today._

Any other day, Roger would’ve been thrilled to hear Brian finally say all this to him, but after he experienced what he did with James, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another man that wasn’t John, and anyway, Roger was tainted now.

He was dirty. Brian wouldn’t want him anymore.

“I have no fucking idea what I am, Roger. I thought I was straight, but… you’ve been making me feeling these things that I’ve never felt before with… another man. I feel so messed up inside and I don’t know what I’m feeling anymore. I mean, I love her but I also love you.”

Roger wrapped his arms around himself, willing himself to disappear. This was all he had wanted to hear from Brian for so long and now that he had, it didn’t have the same effect that he thought it would.

“I-I can’t…” Roger felt his body trembling as tears filled his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bri, but I can’t… not right now.”

Brian blinked now and he stood up, shaking his head. “You… wanted this, Rog. You wanted me to love you, remember? And now you suddenly don’t? I don’t understand. What’s changed?”

_I was raped._

“I was drugged, Brian! I was fucking drugged and I have no idea what the hell happened! I’m blacking out the second I get a little depressed or anxious and I’m a fucking wreck! You don’t want me. I don’t even want me!” Roger yelled, his voice cracking from the strain as tears ran down his own cheeks.

“W-Whatever it is, we’ll get through this, together. I don’t want to be with Chrissy anymore. I want to be with you, Roger. We can help each other through this.”

Roger shook his head. “You don’t even know what this is… you t-think this is my way of self-destructing? You’ve got to be joking. I drank some but I didn’t drug my own drink! I just can’t do this with you right now… I know I wanted this, I know… but I can’t do it.”

Brian looked hurt, betrayed, confused. He roughly wiped his cheeks and he hiccupped. “I’m sorry you were drugged, Roger, really I am, but… you can’t toy with people like this; it’s not fair to them. What about John? You’re with him…”

“It’s complicated,” Roger replied, feeling selfish and stupid and angry at no one except himself.

Brian scoffed. “Yeah, it seems as though it is,” he stood up and looked back at Roger. “You’re still my best mate, and I love you, but you broke my heart, Roger. I expected… I don’t know what I expected, actually, but it wasn’t you rejecting me.”

Roger watched as the older man walked out of the room quickly now, leaving him alone. He whimpered as he cried into his sheets, holding them close to him, feeling his self-hatred fill up his entire being. He fucked everything up.

The one thing he had wanted so long and now he let it slip through his fingers.

He curled into himself in bed and screamed into his pillow until his throat burned and sobbed until his entire body ached, because he felt like he deserved the pain. He had hurt Brian like Brian had hurt him for months.

This was Roger’s hell.


	16. hope

**.    .    .**

The drummer slept through the next day, only waking up to use the loo, and fell back asleep. He woke up again the following morning, his throat still burning like fire between the tube that pumped his stomach and his screaming. Roger was feeling the lowest he had felt in a long time, and a part of him wanted to keep pretending he was asleep when he heard a voice.

“I know you’re awake, darling. I can see your eyes open from here,” came a gentle voice.

Roger knew there was no use in pretending anymore. He rolled over and turned to look at Freddie with his reddened eyes. He hadn’t been able to stop crying since he saw Brian.

“Do you have a smoke?”

Freddie gave an almost sly smile. “I do, but you can’t smoke in a hospital, Rog,” then the smile faded and he searched the drummer’s face. “You simply must tell me what’s going on. I’m dreadfully sorry I missed the excitement, but I’m here now and it seems as though no one will tell me anything.”

Roger sighed, hugging the blankets to his body. “I was drugged, Freddie. That’s pretty much all there was to it. Someone drugged me at the bar after I left you all.”

“Obviously there’s more to it than that, though.”

The drummer looked up at him. “Sorry?”

Freddie shrugged and chewed on his bottom lip. “Brian left here in a hurry, as I came in as a matter of fact the other day, and said he was going back to his girlfriend’s flat and to leave him alone for a few days. He doesn’t wish to stay here with you, darling… did you have a row?”

Roger rubbed his eyes with his palms. “I guess we did, yeah. It’s… a long story.”

“There’s only room in this band for one dramatic queen and I’m afraid it’s me. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize what’s going on here. I know you had a crush on Brian for a while now but you haven’t been able to do anything about it because he’s been with Chrissy,” Freddie explained, as if Roger didn’t already know this. “And now he doesn’t want to be near you. You told him about it, didn’t you?”

“He knew about it before, Fred,” Roger explained back to him. “He… told me that… he felt the same way now. He says he wants to be with me.”

Freddie’s eyes widened a bit in surprise but he quickly regained his composure. “I see. So… what seems to be the problem then, darling?”

“Are you serious?” the drummer asked now in faded disbelief. “I’m a mess. I’m a bloody mess! I can’t even remember what’s happened in the three days. I keep blacking out like it’s my job, and anyway, I’m with John!”

Freddie looked almost bored.

“I understand the first few bits, love, but in case you’ve already forgotten our arrangement, we’re in an open relationship with each other. John’s not only seeing you, but he’s also with me. Do you believe he’d have an issue with you seeing Brian as well?”

Roger hadn’t thought about it like that before but his depression was getting in the way of logic. “He deserves better.”

“I did not just hear you say that, Roger Taylor.”

“What?” Roger shrugged. “It’s true.”

Freddie reached over and grabbed Roger’s hand from under the blanket and held it in his own firmly. It wasn’t intimate as much as it was a friend-being-there type of touch.

“It’s not true, it’s not. I really do hate to burst your bubble but you both deserve the best in this world, and you both deserve to be happy, regardless of any mistakes you’ve both made. You’re like me, Rog. You have so much love in your heart that it’s bursting at the seams and you’re able to love more than one human being at a time as equally as you love another. There’s nothing wrong with that. You should let yourself feel it because you deserve all the love in this world, darling.”

Freddie’s words made the drummer tear up and he couldn’t stop a few of them from making trails down his cheeks before he wiped them away and sniffed.

“Thanks, Freddie.” He didn’t personally believe his words because he felt like he didn’t deserve any of it, but he still appreciated the kind words said by his friend and bandmate.

“Of course, love.”

The two men sat in a somewhat comfortable silence for several minutes before Roger finally spoke up again. “Where’s John now? Is he coming back?”

“Oh yes,” Freddie nodded, giving him an almost sad smile. “He’s just gone home to pack an overnight bag for you. The doctors wish to… take a closer look at you and they’ve also said that they’ve noticed how long you’ve been sleeping and suspect that you might be depressed. They’ve talked about giving you some medication to help with that, I believe.”

Roger closed his eyes and groaned. “I want to get out of here, Freddie. Just tell them to let me out.”

The singer searched his face again. “I must be honest, Rog, I’m a bit concerned about you as well. Is there something you haven’t told us, by any chance? Did something else happen at that pub?”

The blonde was quiet for a long time before he shook his head. John knew the truth; that was enough people to know.

“I’m fine. Please leave me alone.”

He was sure there was hurt in Freddie’s eyes but he couldn’t bear to look at him and see it. He saw the other man stand up and give a sigh before he felt eyes on him.

“You may be John’s boyfriend, but you’re still one of my best mates, Roger. Don’t forget that nothing you say will surprise me and I’d never judge you. You’re not alone, darling, so it would do you well not to act as if you are,” Freddie leaned down and planted a gentle, barely there kiss on the top of Roger’s head before he walked out of the room.

He tried to fight them but the tears started coming hard and fast and before he knew it, Roger Taylor was sobbing uncontrollably into his pillow. There were so many factors to why he was feeling what he was feeling, but he wasn’t exactly sure what brought this episode on. He had been sad when Freddie was in here, yes, but he hadn’t wanted to cry until after he had left. It was as if a dam suddenly broke without warning.

He cried until his tears were dried up and his body was tired from the sobs. He swallowed back the lump in his throat and then saw John walk inside carrying a large bag. Roger felt his heart swell at the sight of him and he waited until the bassist had set the bag down by the bed and he had sat down in the chair before he started to speak.

“Hey, John,” he greeted in a raspy voice.

“Hello, Roger,” the younger man gave a loving smile. “How’re you feeling?”

The drummer searched his face and hated himself for wanting to cry all over again. A realization struck him hard, like a rock falling and crushing him: He had to tell them. He had to tell them about James in case something happened to him. He didn’t know James well, but from his experiences recently around the man, he was violent and threatening.

He looked at John with wide eyes. “I-I need help…”

“We’re going to help you get better, Roger. I promise. We’re here for you,” John stood up and moved closer to Roger, taking his hand in his own to hold it lovingly. “You don’t have to do this alone. Just… let us help.”

He swallowed hard and felt more tears run down his cheeks but didn’t bother to stop them this time. “I-I was… I was r-raped,” he whispered, as if it were a dirty secret. Perhaps it was.

“I know,” John nodded. Of course he knew; Roger had basically told him about it the other day.

Roger looked up at him. “I-I know who did it, Deaky. I know who raped me,” he confessed and felt the bassist tense up. “Some… some bloke named James Williams. He… he drugged me and… I blacked out and when I woke up, he was b-behind me… in me, you know?”

John nodded quickly, panic on his face.

“He was bigger than me, and… he uhh… he was violent. He hit me and threatened me,” Roger confessed, his voice cracking now. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I c-can’t do it, John. I can’t… pretend anymore. Everything’s gotten out of control and… I don’t know how to deal with any of it anymore.”

John crawled into the bed carefully and lay beside Roger. The blonde turned around so he could face John as well.

“Go ahead, Roger. It’s all right. Please, tell me whatever it is you want to tell me.”

The other man gave a nod and took another deep breath. “Brian told me he loves me, and he wants to be with me, and he wants to leave Chrissy for me. I didn’t say yes, though, Deaky. I’m with you, and I was with you first.”

John seemed somewhat surprised at this new information but he gave a small smile. “I know you love him, Roger. It’s fine. You can be with him.”

Roger thought about what Freddie had told him earlier. “What about you? I want to be with you too.”

John gave a small chuckle. “You can be with both of us, Roger. I’m not going to make you choose, Brian or me. I know what it feels like, to love too much and not be able to choose. It wouldn’t be fair of me to make you choose one or the other when I love Freddie.”

Roger gave a shrug but then gave John a quick peck on the lips, afraid a nurse would come inside and separate them any second.

The bassist smiled brightly before he looked up at the window and then leaned in, kissing Roger’s lips tenderly for several moments before he finally leaned back again.

Kissing John Deacon made Roger temporarily forget his problems. He felt peace for a few minutes before he sighed softly, remembering his problems again.

“What about James? What do we do about him?”

John thought for a moment. “We’ll tell Brian about what happened, and then see if he can file a report with police. He can talk a lot better than Freddie or I can, and they might listen to him. He’ll fight hard for justice to be done. He seems to be that type of guy.”

Roger relaxed a little and nodded. “Can you let me talk to him about it? If… if he comes back? Freddie told me he didn’t want to see me again for a few days.”

The younger man laced his hand into Roger’s. “If you need Brian, I’ll call him. I know he’d come if he knew that you wanted to see him. He really cares about you. He must love you a lot.”

“I hope so. Please don’t leave me yet, John.”

“I won’t. I’m right here.”

Roger held onto his hand, feeling like a weight had been partially lifted off him telling him those things. He still felt sad, but maybe he could be on his way to feeling better now.

 

**….......... ….. ………………..**

When he woke up, it was almost the afternoon of the next day, he guessed, and John was gone. In his place, though, was Brian. He had somehow managed to crawl onto the bed beside Roger without waking him up or knocking anything over. He was so tall, his legs dangled slightly off the end of the bed as he lay on his side to look at his friend.

Roger wiped the sleep and grogginess from his eyes. “Sorry, I feel so tired.”

“I imagine that’s a combination of the depression and the medication they have you on for the pain,” the guitarist rationalized softly. “Why did you want me here, Rog? What did you want to tell me?”

It was now when the drummer saw an angry red mark on Brian’s cheek, obviously from a hard slap. He reached out to trace it with his fingertips before he searched his eyes. “Chrissy do that to you?”

“I told her about… my feelings for you. I couldn’t keep it from her anymore.”

Roger felt his chest ache. So he had told Chrissy the truth, and he had made a price for it. “I can do this, Bri.”

The older man turned his head and looked at Roger curiously. “Do what, exactly?”

“You know, us. I can be with you, but… I’m also going to stay with John. If you have a problem with that, then… I’m sorry, but I guess then we can’t be together.”

Brian let out a soft chuckle before he leaned in and pressed his lips against Roger’s lovingly. “I’m fine with that arrangement, Roger. I am. I love you, mate. I really do.”

Roger felt relief wash over him now. “I love you too, Brian.”

The other man smiled brightly but when he only saw a half smile come from his new boyfriend, he knew something else was on his mind. “What else is going on?”

“I need to tell you something. I already told John, but I haven’t told Freddie yet. I think maybe telling you, you could do something about it, fix things,” Roger rambled, feeling nervous.

“You’re scaring me, Rog. Please, just tell me.”

The drummer moved closer to Brian and took another deep breath, trying to find courage and bravery where there was none. He swallowed hard, his throat still feeling raw and sore.

“Apparently, several days ago, the night of our gig, I met someone. This guy, James Williams, and… apparently, we… had sex. Well, a few days ago when I went to the bar, he was there. He gave me the drugs, Bri,” Roger didn’t dare look at the guitarist’s eyes. “He drugged and raped me there, at the pub.”

Brian gasped and when Roger looked up at him, there were tears in his friend’s eyes. He bit his lip hard to stop himself from crying again.

“Oh god, no… Roger,” Brian went to wrap an arm around Roger, but then hesitated, deciding maybe that would be inappropriate right now after what Roger had just gone through, and took his hand in his instead. “Fuck, Roger… I’m so sorry. I’m so… fucking sorry. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it.”

The drummer had been so ashamed of his dirty secret that he hadn’t anticipated Brian reacting like this. He thought that he’d feel disgusted by everything Roger had done and been though. He felt foolish for feeling that way now seeing the older man’s reaction.

“I-I need you to tell the police, Bri,” Roger nearly whispered, holding Brian’s hand tightly. “We know his name so… maybe we can get him. Maybe… maybe the doctors can still get evidence or something to use against him, to put him in jail.”

Brian didn’t look hopeful, and Roger felt his heart breaking. He knew maybe he should’ve told the doctors straight away about it, or told John or Brian or Freddie so they could tell the doctors. Maybe it was too late.

“I’ll talk to everyone I can. I’ll try my best to see that justice is done, Roger. I promise you.”

Roger nodded, biting his lip anxiously. He had no doubt that Brian would make this right but he was nervous about running into James again between now and when justice was finally done. He decided that he’d stay close to his bandmates; the last thing he wanted to was give James any opportunity to get him alone.

“Thank you, Bri.”

Brian placed his hand on Roger’s cheek now and softly caressed it before he gently placed his head against the drummer’s. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just sorry that I couldn’t help you sooner.”

Roger embraced the feeling of being so close to him and feeling safe. He took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the anxiety in his chest get smaller and smaller. He felt a hundred times lighter now. Maybe things could start getting better from here on out.

For the first time in so long, Roger had hope.


	17. free

**.     .     .**

Roger woke up the next morning feeling somewhat groggy from his medications but deciding he very much needed to use the loo. He looked over but didn’t see any of his band mates sleeping in the chair beside him. He followed the tubes that were going from his hands up to the metal pole where the nutrients or medication or whatever was being pumped into him now were, and grabbed it to half use as a crutch to keep him stable enough to made it to the restroom.

He walked slow, trying to stop his head from spinning. When he made it to the door of the loo, it was then when he heard voices, seemingly outside his door. He moved a bit closer and put his head to the door to listen.

“That was a very silly promise you made to him, darling.”

_Freddie._

“Was it, though, Freddie? Justice needs to be done. We need to find his attacker and send him to jail! We need to get proof somehow…”

_Brian._

“I understand your frustration, but he really should have told us about what happened to him the night it happened at that damned pub. I’m afraid it might be too late now, dear.”

A groan of frustration and then what sounded like someone slamming their hand against the wall as it echoed throughout the hall.

“We need to do _something_ , yeah? We need to help him!”

“We can help him just by being in there for him. I agree that we need to do something to bring his rapist to justice, Brian, but the law won’t be on our side in this. I’m very sorry, darling.”

Roger moved away from the door as swirls of emotions filled him up and his head spun more. Nothing was going to happen to James. He wouldn’t be put in jail. He tried to stop the panic that was edging in his chest. He remembered what his previous goal had been and moved into the bathroom before closing the door and starting to do his business, trying to remain as calm as he could.

It was when he was washing his hands when he heard a soft knock on the restroom door. He moved towards it and opened it, trying to force a smile when he saw Freddie.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, dear. They told me they were going to have someone in here watching you twenty-four, seven, but I suppose they must have changed their minds.”

Roger raised an eyebrow now. “What do you mean, someone in here watching me? What, do they think I’m going to hurt myself?”

He was about to chuckle when he saw how serious the singer looked right now, and decided against it. Instead, it turned to anger.

“You’re joking! I’m not going to off myself now when we’re so close to actually making it!”

Freddie placed a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Don’t think about that right now, darling. We’ve put everything on hold. It’s the right thing to do until you feel better. There’s no pressure at all, though. Take as long as you need to, Roger.”

“No pressure?” Roger looked at him in disbelief. “Brian and I have been waiting to hit it big for months! Now that we have you and John, we actually have a chance and you want to put all that on hold for what? For me? Unbelievable.”

Freddie looked at him with sad eyes as he helped Roger back to his bed and got him situated again. “I truly am sorry, but we must do this. Your mental health is much more important to us than a silly gig. You come first right now.”

Roger huffed and shook his head, dying for a cigarette.

“Yeah? If I come first, then why can’t Brian get me justice for what James did to me? He’s still out there! He’s still bloody out there, probably preying on others and no one gives a fuck! It isn’t fair!”

Freddie looked shocked at first, and then hung his head now and looked at his hands. “No, darling, you’re right; it isn’t fair. Roger, if these were… normal circumstances, the police would be out looking for your attacker as soon as you were brought in. We didn’t know you were raped until you told us yesterday. The evidence is gone, I’m afraid.”

Roger tensed. “What do you mean ‘normal circumstances’?”

“I mean,” Freddie spoke softly, “if you were a woman.”

Roger still didn’t understand and there was a part of him that didn’t want to. He had a sick feeling inside himself that he wasn’t going to like the answer. “W-What do you mean? I don’t get it; what does that have to do with anything?”

Freddie sighed gently and turned to face Roger before placing his hand on top of Roger’s. “Darling, what I mean to say is… Roger, it’s not the right time now for people like us, homosexual people. There’s homophobia around every corner and it’s dangerous to be out in the open. People… like your father who don’t approve of how we are, they’re out there, Rog. Unfortunately, some of those same people are also policemen and if they knew you were raped, they wouldn’t do a damned thing about it! They would just laugh, and say something like, ‘good riddance.’ Do you understand what I’m saying, darling?”

The words hurt him, but the drummer felt like he was starting to understand finally, and he felt sick about it. He swallowed hard and nodded. Freddie was talking about people like Tim.

“So… what do we do?” Roger asked, feeling helpless.

Freddie gently held his hand in his own. “Let me talk to Brian, and see if maybe he knows someone who can… take a look at you.”

“Take a look at me? Uh oh, no way. No one’s taking a look at me that isn’t one of you guys. I trust all of you more than anyone.”

“That’s very sweet, Roger, but none of us are medical professionals. You’re the only one out of any of us who has remotely studied human biology, and I believe this is a job for someone more experienced,” Freddie explained softly.

Roger sighed heavily, knowing once again, Freddie was right. “I don’t want anyone else to see me. Maybe… maybe they can tell Brian what to look for, and he can help me? Please, Freddie, this is embarrassing.”

“I understand, darling, but I’m afraid it must be someone with actual experience. Don’t worry; I’m sure Brian would only get someone he can trust one hundred percent.”

The drummer rubbed his eyes with his palms, trying not to get stressed about this, but talking about this wasn’t helping. “Where’s Brian now?”

“I believe he just went to get some coffee. He should be back relatively soon.”

“John?” Roger tried again.

“He’s talking to one of the doctors. I’m sure that he’ll be back soon as well, dear. Would you like me to go fetch Brian for you?”

Roger nodded, looking anywhere except at Freddie. “If you don’t mind, Fred.”

“Of course not, Rog.”

He watched the singer leave the room and only when he was out, the drummer kicked the bed angrily, once, twice, three times. He heard the beeping of his heart monitor accelerate and it made him stop kicking his bed as he attempted to calm down.

He saw a nurse come in with a syringe just then and before Roger could say anything, she injected it into one of his tubes. He felt almost sleepy, but felt his adrenaline disappear within seconds; she must have given him a sedative.

His eyes felt heavy as he fought to stay awake. Brian slipped inside with a coffee in his hand and gave Roger a small, loving smile as he set the cup down and sat in the chair, leaning forward. The guitarist tensed up when he saw the tears that were falling down Roger’s cheeks. He reached out and thumbed them away.

“What is it? What’s wrong, love?”

Roger shook his head before he searched the older man’s face. “Y-You promised you’d fight for me, Bri. You… promised that… t-that bastard would go to jail. Now, Freddie’s telling me that there’s almost a zero chance of that happening.”

Brian’s face dropped now and he nodded. “He’s told me that as well. I-I’m so sorry, Roger. Please believe me, though, when I tell you how much I wish I could get the justice you deserved. I’m still going to try anyway. I’m still going to go to the police a-and… and I’m going to… fucking try.”

Roger felt more tears fill his eyes as he shook his head, remembering what Freddie had said to him. “They’ll just laugh at you. I don’t want you to get hurt too. I need you.”

Brian let out a sigh, running his hand through his dark locks. He looked at Roger helplessly. “We need to focus on other things anyway, like taking care of you physically, making sure you’re all right. I’ve actually talked to one of your doctors yesterday after you told me about what happened, and… they refuse to even look at you, Rog. They say the evidence is probably long gone by now and because you were raped, they assumed anyway that you were homosexual, so they refuse to even take a look. Fucking homophobic pricks…”

Roger weakly kicked the bed again, his muscles feeling stretched out and tired. He shook his head in disgust. Maybe Freddie really was right after all; maybe it really was the wrong time in history to be gay. Would there be a better time?

Roger hoped so.

He inhaled sharply through his nostrils as he felt tears prickle his eyes still. He felt angry and frustrated and generally fed up with people. He needed to get the hell out of here; he was sick to death of being in hospitals.

“Lay with me?” He asked weakly, pleadingly.

“Always,” Brian nodded before he stood up from the chair and crawled onto the bed beside Roger. He felt the drummer hug his body.

He wrapped his arms loosely around Roger, wanting to make him feel safe, but also wanting him to feel free to move away whenever he wanted. He kissed his boyfriend’s forehead softly before he moved the blonde’s locks away from his face.

“I love you, Roger,” he whispered softly.

The younger man’s natural instinct told him to ask ‘why,’ but he fought hard not to say it aloud. He didn’t want to give any of them more cause to keep him here than he already had. The doctors thought he was depressed and apparently were keeping him on suicide watch. That wouldn’t help him get out of here, though.

“I love you too, Bri.”

_And he did mean it, with all of his broken heart._

The two men held each other for god knows how long until both of them were asleep. They must have been more tired than either of them realized because when Roger woke up, Brian was still sleeping beside him and the sun was setting again. He fell asleep shortly after and the second time he woke up, the sun was high in the sky and he had no idea what day it was anymore.

He felt a bit groggy from the medication and although he had slept, he still felt so tired. He rubbed his eyes and glanced over to see Brian facing the other way now towards the window, still sleeping, his body moving up and down in even breaths. Roger relaxed a little and noticed someone else was in the room with them.

“How’re you feeling, Rog?”

The drummer shrugged. “Like I want to get the hell of here, Deaky.”

John gave a small smile and ran his hand through his hair. “Freddie somehow managed to talk them into releasing you later today. He told them that you’re not feeling depressed, or suicidal. He told them that you’re feeling fine, and they’re ridiculous for keeping you here when they can’t help you any longer.”

Roger searched John’s face, seeing uncertainty written all over it. It made his stomach clench. “What’s wrong, John?”

The young bassist sighed heavily and looked at Roger with sad eyes. “Tell me Freddie didn’t lie to them, Roger. Tell me… that you’re not feeling depressed or suicidal, but don’t tell me it just because it’s what I want to hear.”

Roger swallowed hard and he took a minute to analyze what exactly he was feeling. He looked in John’s eyes. “To tell the truth, John, I’m not a hundred percent sure what I feel. These drugs they have me on… they’re clouding up my mind, you know? I don’t feel suicidal though. I just… want to get out of here.”

John tensed slightly. “You don’t feel suicidal but… you feel depressed?”

Roger sighed softly but he nodded before shrugging. “I feel a bit depressed, yeah, but to be fair, I was depressed before I ended up in here anyway.”

There was definitely conflict in the bassist’s eyes now but he saw John nod in understanding before he reached out and gently took Roger’s hand in his own. “I love you, Rog. We’re all here for you, mate. We’re all going to try our best to help you through this, yeah?”

Roger gave him a grateful smile and he nodded. “Thanks, John. Really… thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank us. We’re here for you.”

Roger watched John stand up and kiss his lips before disappearing from the room.

“You two are so adorable, Rog,” a tired voice whispered.

The drummer groaned and looked over to see Brian with a smirk on his face, his body now turned towards him. “Oh shut up… how much of that did you exactly hear, anyway?”

The smirk fell from his face now and worry filled his eyes.

“Enough to perhaps be concerned about the well-being of your mental health. Even if you’re depressed, regardless if it happened before all this shit, it’s still worrisome to me. Maybe we should have you talk with someone, a professional.”

Roger instantly shook his head. “I’m fine, Bri. I’m not ready to off myself yet.”

“Yet?” Brian raised his eyebrows.

The drummer sighed and shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that – look, just… let it go, yeah? You don’t need to worry about me. Anyway, I can only focus on one thing at a time. What day even is it?”

Brian sighed gently but decided to table the discussion for now. “It’s Wednesday, five in the evening.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Roger swore in exasperation. “You all just going to let me sleep through the week now?”

The guitarist chuckled and opened his arms up in a shrug. “You need the sleep, love. We’re not going to wake you up when nothing’s even going on. We still don’t have another potential gig for several more days, that is if you even feel well enough to go on with it. Besides that, there’s literally nothing going on, Rog.”

The blonde rolled his eyes before playfully narrowing them at the older man. “Well, it would’ve been nice to at least hang out with you guys instead of sleeping. You and John are at least decent reasons to stay awake. Keep me from being bored out of my skull.”

“What about Freddie?”

Roger shrugged and gave a teasing smirk. “Well I’m not shagging him, am I?”

“You’re such a prick,” Brian laughed now, shaking his head in disbelief. The two men sat in a comfortable silence until Roger felt a tenseness in the atmosphere. Brian glanced over at him almost knowingly.

“What? You look like you’re about to say something.”

“I am,” Brian said almost sadly. “I understand if you don’t feel up to… doing anything, with either of, and I’m sure that John feels the same way as well. We won’t be offended if you don’t wish to, you know, sleep with either of us. You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal and we don’t want you to feel like you have to or anything, Roger.”

The drummer swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. He ran his hands through his hair before he forced himself to look up at Brian again. “I’m _fine_ , Brian. Just… leave it alone. I’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure if that was true or not but by god, he was going to at least show his affection towards his boyfriends if it was the last thing he did; they deserved that much just for putting up with him and all this mess he got himself in. He loved them, was almost very certain that he would die for either of them if it ever came to that, he was going to prove how much he loved them, or die trying.

Brian kissed his temple softly before he gently rested his head against Roger’s. “Okay, I just… want you to know that it’s all right. There’s no pressure or anything. We’ll both still love you regardless. Love is more than just shagging.”

“Okay! Fine! Let’s just… stop talking about this now. There’s no reason to have _this_ talk. I’m really fine.”

Brian kissed Roger’s temple one more time before he just nodded resignedly and sat up in the bed, positioning himself across from the drummer. Luckily at that time, Freddie walked into the room, carrying two cups of coffee and handed one to Brian but he was smiling brightly at Roger.

“Oh wonderful! You’re finally awake! How are you feeling, darling? Is there anything I can get you?”

Roger felt like he was going through John’s chair against the wall if he was asked by one more person if they could get him something. He was almost ready to jump through the window. “Yes, as a matter of fact! Can you please get me the hell out of here, because I would love that!”

“Did John did not tell you, love? You can get out in about an hour from now.”

Roger nodded, remembering John having told him that earlier. “Oh, I know. I just was hoping to get out literally right this second instead. I’m going crazy in this place. I’d kill the queen for a smoke.”

Brian smiled and Freddie chuckled.

“Of course you would, dear; I don’t doubt it. You’ll be able to have a cigarette very shortly. Someone should be coming in here in a bit to release you from those dreadful tubes and you’ll be free once again. Then we can get out.”

“Where’d John go?” Brian asked the singer.

“Oh, he stepped out for a smoke and said he’d meet us back home.”

Roger shook his head playfully. “Of course he did. Figures that he can smoke and I can’t.”

“Easy, Rog,” Brian lightly warned half playfully. “You can have your addictive cancer sticks very soon.”

The three men spoke conversationally until an hour passed, and Freddie had turned out to be right; a couple nurses came in to check Roger’s vitals and made sure everything was normal before they took the IVs out of the drummer and signed his release form.

He got changed into fresh clothes that John had brought in from home, which turned out just to be a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and the three band mates took Brian’s van back home. As soon as he got inside the van, Roger lit up a cigarette Freddie gave him and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as the nicotine invaded his body in a nostalgic feeling of utter relief.

Brian informed them, however, that they had to get two prescriptions filled for Roger so they made a twenty minute stop at the drug store.

He smoked at least three cigarettes by the time they arrived home and felt like he was back to feeling like his old self. He didn’t feel home until he entered the flat and started to his bedroom, needing to lay down in the bed he shared with Freddie and John.

He sighed softly and closed his eyes as he crawled into bed under the covers, breathing in the comforter. It wasn’t long when he felt a shift in the bed and saw Freddie and John both join him on the bed, getting comfortable.

He chuckled. “What are you doing? It’s only six! I just wanted to lay here!”

“Well maybe we want to lay here with you, darling… is that going to be a problem?”

“Wait for me,” spoke another voice that Roger hadn’t entirely expected to hear, and then, “Unf! Freddie, get your foot out of my face!”

“What the hell is going on? Brian, I’m afraid there just isn’t room for you in here!” The singer teased as he shifted his weight in an attempt to make room anyway.

Roger couldn’t help but burst out in laughter now. It was a comedic scene if anyone were to stumble upon them right now: John performing acrobatics to get between Roger and Freddie, and Brian trying his best to lay opposite of Roger at his feet, and all of them fighting for personal space.

“We’re not going to sleep, Rog,” Brian reassured him as soon as he obtained space to breathe and relax, gently caressing Roger’s socked feet with his hands as he lay across from him. “We’re just all laying together.”

“Well,” Roger smiled to himself. “I suppose that’s all right, then. Everyone have enough space?” He asked, ready to change positions with anyone he had to in an instant.

“Not in the slightest, darling, but I feel very loved right now,” Freddie admitted.

The men chatted absentmindedly about everything except any actual problems and Roger enjoyed every minute. He didn’t want to think about anything except these men in his life that would do anything for him. He loved them.

Even Freddie.


	18. side effects

**.    .    .**

  
When Roger woke up, he looked around, feeling completely confused. The sun was just coming up through the windows, and the four of them were still lying together on the bed. He looked over at the clock on the bedside table as it read nearly six a.m.

He groaned loudly and then accidentally kicked Brian’s face, who let out a cry.

“Hey! Roger… what are you doing?”

The drummer sighed and sat up. “It’s six in the bloody morning! We fell asleep at six in the fucking evening! I can’t believe it!”

John groaned tiredly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up on his elbows. “We slept for twelve hours?”

Brian sat up and looked around, attempting to collect his bearings. “That would be the correct math. We slept for twelve hours,” he yawned and stood up. “I’ll go put on the coffee.”

Roger watched his boyfriend walk out of the room and looked over at Freddie who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, only to see that he was still sleeping. He grabbed his pillow and threw it at Freddie who let out a squawk and sat upright, looking around to see where the attack came from.

“I’m awake! What was that…?”

“A pillow,” John answered, smirking. “We slept for twelve hours, Fred.”

The singer looked aghast and shook his head as he stood up. “No, that simply cannot be right… I’ve never slept for twelve hours in my entire life!” He hurried over to the clock to look at it closer and saw to his disappointment that John was indeed right. “Holy shit,”

John chuckled, hearing Freddie swear and then climbed over to where Roger was sitting, lighting his first cigarette of the morning.

“I’m going to go take a shower, darlings. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” he smiled devilishly at the two men before kissing John quickly and grabbing his clothes and scurrying off.

John turned to looked at Roger, watching for a few moments as the blonde smoked. “How are you feeling?”

Roger shrugged. “Same as I was yesterday, I suppose.”

“Still depressed?”

The drummer nodded.

John reached out and took Roger’s free hand in his and kissed the top of it. “One of the prescriptions we had filled were antidepressants. Maybe those will help with that?”

Roger shrugged as he took another drag before nodding, wanting to give John hope. He could see how desperately the younger man wanted to see Roger get better. He took another drag before putting it out in the ashtray and putting on a smile.

“Come on, Deaks. Let’s see what Brian made for breakfast, yeah?”

John smiled back and nodded before he followed Roger into the kitchen and walked over to the coffee machine. The bassist poured two cups for himself and the drummer.

Roger looked around. “Breakfast?” He inquired, glancing at Brian.

The guitarist looked over at his boyfriend from the couch where he was watching telly and drinking his coffee. “Sorry?”

“Breakfast… you didn’t make any. You usually do when you come over.”

Brian stood up and walked over to Roger with an amused expression on his face. “This was the first time I’ve actually stayed the night here, and we haven’t had breakfast together in a few weeks now. How can you say I usually make breakfast when I come over?”

Roger blinked, having lost track of what Brian was getting at. “I don’t know? _Can_ you make breakfast?”

“Yes,” the guitarist chuckled, walking into the kitchen and grabbed a pan and some eggs. “I can make it. All you had to do was ask, love. How are you feeling today?”

Brian looked at John and shook his head before he looked back at Brian. “I can’t believe this, is everyone going to ask me how I’m feeling today, Jesus Chr -"

“Feeling all right this morning, darling?” Freddie asked as he came bouncing into the kitchen.

John chuckled now and Brian cracked a smile while Roger’s eyes grew wide in frustration and he kicked over the chair on the other side of him, nearly knocking over both his cup of coffee and John’s, which didn’t go unnoticed by the older man.

“Roger, please _do_ try to calm yourself and not destroy our furniture…”

The drummer exhaled deeply and shook his head but he wasn’t actually angry. He behaved himself until Brian placed scrambled eggs on a plate in front of him, along with a pill and some water. He fingered the pill thoughtfully before he looked up at Brian who seemed not to be going anywhere until his boyfriend swallowed it down.

“Go on, Rog. It’s all right – it’s just an antidepressant. Maprotiline, I believe it’s called.”

He reluctantly set the pill near the back of his tongue and then swallowed it with water before he looked at the table and poked at his eggs. “Map…Maprotiline,” he spoke to himself, unsure why he felt the need to say the name of the foreign pill that was going into his body.

He hadn’t studied medications where he had left off at university, just human anatomy, and basic first aid and surgery. The names of medications fascinated him, made him want to know more about the chemicals inside them, and how they would affect his brain.

The other three men simply smiled almost lovingly at Roger before they took seats with their breakfasts and coffees before taking turns delving into the newspaper.

Roger wished that he could relax as well but all he could think about was what they had talked about yesterday at the hospital, how they had wanted him to be checked out by a professional to make sure he hadn’t caught anything from James.

The thought of the possibility of this made Roger want to flip all the chairs and tables in the flat and then start punching out windows. He couldn’t relax.

He stood up and grabbed his coffee before he took it down the hall to the bathroom with him and closed the door before he started getting undressed, deciding if he was going to be alone with his thoughts, he might as well do something productive as well.

It wasn’t ten minutes when he was lying in the bathtub with the curtain half drawn, smoking a cigarette when he heard a gentle knocking. He sighed to himself, feeling guilty for separating himself from the men he knew loved him and just wanted to help.

“It’s me, Rog. May I come in?” Brian asked softly.

He thought for a minute before he sighed again. “All right. Come in…” He watched as Brian slipped inside and shut the door behind him before he walked over to Roger and sat down on floor beside the tub, obviously wanting to be close to the blonde.

They sat in a heavy silence for a few minutes as Roger smoked his cigarette when the guitarist finally spoke up.

“What’s going on, Rog?” He asked gently. “You just left without saying anything. What’s on your mind, hm?”

Roger remained quiet, taking another drag before he put it out on the edge of the bathtub. He watched Brian take the butt and put it in the garbage before looked expectantly at him again.

“Please, talk to me, Roger. You can’t just sit here all alone in silence.”

He sunk lower into the tub. “I’m not alone now, am I?”

“Roger…”

The tone was warning, telling Roger not to be a smart-arse right now because something was going on. Everything was not all right and the drummer wasn’t even pretending that it was. He didn’t understand what was going on with him anymore. He had been okay until he was released from hospital. Now he felt like he was spiraling downwards.

He forced himself to sit up so he could see Brian’s eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Bri. I’m depressed… I’m… sinking lower and lower and it feels like I can’t feel the bottom. I feel like I’m drowning and I don’t even know why.”

Brian reached over and took his wet hand, holding it in his own. “You were attacked, raped. You were violated, Roger… beyond belief. It’s easy to see why you’d be depressed,” he was quiet for a beat before he spoke again. “Do you know what a black hole is, Rog?”

The question seemed so random that it took Roger by surprise. He blinked for a moment before he shook his head, his attention fully on his boyfriend now, waiting for an answer.

Brian looked at him. “A black hole is a region of space that has a gravitational field so intense, that matter and radiation can’t escape. Stars get sucked into it if they’re close enough. Nothing can escape it.”

Roger shook his head and shrugged. “All right, so… why are you telling this to me?”

“I’m telling you this because this depression is making you fall into a black hole, where your happiness and comfort is getting sucked into it too, but… it’ll also suck the ones close to you into it as well. I’m not telling you this to make you feel guilty or anything, I’m just telling you. It’s just a theory right now, but Stephen Hawking believes that these black holes can evaporate over time as they lose mass by the emission of photons…”

“I’m sorry, Brian, I still don’t understand.”

The guitarist remained patient. “Think of your emotions as the photons, mate. I know your depression is telling you to keep everything inside, to not talk about how you’re feeling or telling anyone your thoughts, but maybe… if you start telling us these things, your depression will lose mass… it’ll decrease and evaporate eventually and maybe you can start feeling more like a human again, less like a black hole. Does any of this make sense to you, Rog?”

Roger seemed thoughtful as he listened to his friend and even though astronomy and science wasn’t his major in university but he felt like things were making logical sense to him. He nodded and smiled softly.

“It does, Bri. It makes sense. I’ll try to do that… talk about things instead of bottling it up.”

The older man smiled now before he leaned over and kissed Roger’s lips. “Good. And… you can tell me anything, not just about your depression, yeah? I mean, about… other things too.”

Roger knew what he was talking about but he looked down at his hands in the water. “I’d tell you about it if I could remember. It’s all just… jumbled up, bits and pieces, you know?”

Brian nodded in understanding and reached over to cup Roger’s face, gently making him look at him. “I know you would, Rog. I just want you to know that I’m here for you; we’re all here for you, and you’re not alone in this. If you start remembering things, because… right now your mind is trying to protect you from the bad, and you might start remembering things soon, it’s okay to talk about it. What happened to you was horrific, and it helps to talk.”

Roger placed a wet hand on Brian’s and nodded. “Yeah, all right.”

The other man gently caressed his skin before kissing him again and then stood up. “All right, then. I’ll let you bathe in peace…”

Roger cleared his throat suddenly, his heart starting to race in his chest. “I-I don’t want to be checked out by a stranger…”

The guitarist searched his face before he turned back to him. “I have a friend, Roger. He’s a good man, a good friend of mine from university. I trust him –"

Before he could finish, Roger was instantly shaking his head.

“No, no m-men. No one I don’t know. I don’t trust them. I-I can’t…”

“Hey,” Brian cooed softly, kneeling down in front of the bathtub again and taking Roger’s hand. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s going to be all right, Roger. If you want, I’ll be there with you in the room as he’s doing it. He’d be professional about it. He’s not a bad person. I trust him with my life, and yours,”

Roger eyed Brian skeptically before he scoffed and shook his head, drinking his now cold coffee before he set it down again.

“Just think about it, Rog? Please, for me?”

The drummer nodded but avoided Brian’s gaze now, looking away from him so his boyfriend wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.

“It’ll be okay, love. I promise.”

Brian looked at him worriedly before he stood up again and finally left the bathroom, leaving Roger alone again with his own thoughts. He washed up and then drained the tub, drying himself off before he got changed carefully, still feeling some aches and pains from the last few days. He brushed his hair and then started back towards the kitchen, surprised to see the coffee machine still on.

Roger poured himself more coffee and sat down on the living room couch beside Freddie and John, fighting the urge to go back to bed.

“Feeling any better, darling?”

Roger shrugged and took a sip of his coffee before he looked around and realized he left his cigarettes back in the kitchen.

“You can bum one from us,” John offered, offering Roger the package of cigarettes that Freddie and he both smoked.

“Thanks, Deaky,” Roger took one and lit it, relaxing slightly after taking a drag from it. He drank and smoked as the other men watched a movie on the television before he looked around for the guitarist. “Where’s Brian?”

“He said he had to go over to Chrissy’s about something, I believe, but promised he’d be back as soon as he could. Don’t worry, dear. I’m sure it was important.”

Roger nodded but honestly didn’t know how he felt about the situation. Didn’t Brian and her break up? Or had he lied and only told Roger that? He bit his lip at the thought of Brian lying to him. He decided to put it to the back of his mind and felt fingers interweave with his own. He smiled weakly, seeing John smiling back at him as he thumbed the back of his hand softly.

Roger leaned against the younger man, who kissed his temple before he wrapped an arm around Roger’s shoulders and went back to watching the movie again. The drummer stayed like that, feeling safe and loved.

He had been so relaxed that he hadn’t even felt himself fall back asleep again until he heard a sharp exclamation pierce his dreams, causing him to jolt awake. When he looked around, he saw Freddie looking at him almost scolding while John held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger while scraping ash off his leg, looking like he was in pain.

“W-What happened?” Roger asked, startled.

Freddie took the cigarette from John’s fingers and angrily put it out in an ashtray. “You fell asleep while smoking, once again, darling! You nearly burned John alive!”

John let out a weak chuckle at Freddie’s hysterics. “That’s probably not entirely true, Freddie. I’m fine, really.”

“Oh shit,” Roger cursed at himself, feeling guilt flooding him. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, John… I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I didn’t realize I was still so tired. Are you all right?”

John gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, Rog, really. I promise. I know it was just an accident. If you’re tired, you can go back to sleep, if you want. We’re right here.”

It was a tempting offer but Roger was hesitant. He didn’t want to upset Freddie any more than he already had. He nodded but stood up. “I’m going to go back to the bedroom and sleep.”

Freddie was looking apologetic now. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean anything by that outburst earlier. You can stay here with us and sleep. It’s really okay.”

Roger shook his head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be more comfortable in bed anyway.” He walked towards the bedroom and closed the door behind him, finding a strange serenity in the darkness.

Even if this was his depression making him feel so fatigued, it felt like home to him. Maybe he’d let himself just let the black hole swallow him up. He didn’t need to talk about anything to anyone. He got under the covers and quickly fell asleep again.

 

**……….  … …………….**

When Roger woke up again, he saw Brian lying beside him, awake. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and turned to look at the guitarist.

“Mmm... everything all right?”

Brian turned over to look at him and there was something in his eyes Roger had never seen before. “I-I… I hurt her, Rog. I… I hurt Chrissy.”

Roger’s brows knit together and he shook his head in disbelief. There had to be more to the story; Brian wasn’t one to go around hurting women. The whole time he had known him, Roger had never seen or heard of him ever hurting a woman.

“What do you mean? How…?”

Guilt touched Brian’s eyes. “I-I didn’t mean to, Rog. I swear I didn’t. S-She had called me over and she was… threatening to hurt herself and said it was because of me… because of me having told her how I felt about you. Then, when I got there, she… she was drunk or something; she was behaving strangely. She pushed me on the bed and… then she straddled my lap and…” Brian swallowed hard, running his hands through his hair. “She tried to take my clothes off, but I grabbed he wrists to stop her.”

Roger took this in, imagining the scene, imagining Chrissy undressing the older man and started to feel jealousy and anger but didn’t let it show in his voice. He turned onto his side to look at Brian. “Is that how you hurt her, when you stopped her by grabbing her wrists?”

Brian looked conflicted, shaking his head finally. Shame touched his eyes now. “She broke free from it, and shoved me onto my back on the bed and started to undo my pants, telling me that I wanted it, that I wasn’t a… a… a fag, and that I was just confused… and I got angry, I told her she was out of her mind and I shoved her off the bed so I could get up and get out of there. She started crying and… I just walked out.”

Roger felt sick, picturing the scene. He felt sick at the thought of anyone, man or woman, forcing Brian to do anything he didn’t want to do. “Was she… bleeding or anything when you pushed her off? I mean, did she break anything?”

“No,” Brian shook his head. “I didn’t see blood or broken bones…”

Roger kissed the guitarist’s lips. “Y-You didn’t do anything wrong, Bri. She tried to rape you… you didn’t want to do anything with her, right?”

Brian started to comprehend what Roger was getting at now and he shook his head quickly. “No, no, Roger… I swear I didn’t. She was out of her fucking mind in denial. I want you, Rog, not her. I love _you_.”

The blonde nodded and smiled softly. “I love you too. You did what you had to do to defend yourself against her. The next time she calls again, don’t answer it, yeah? She’s not worth your time. Are you all right, otherwise?” Roger’s eyes started looking around for bruises or cuts or burns but found none.

Brian shook his head. “No, no… I’m okay. I’m sorry I answered her call earlier. I thought it might have actually been an emergency. She was acting like it was. I didn’t know, Rog.”

He moved closer to Brian and rested his hand on the other man’s waist. “It’s all right. I believe you. You’re safe now.”

The two men lay together before Brian kissed Roger’s forehead softly and spoke.

“It’s not good for the two of us to lay in bed all day. We need to go out and do something,” he whispered.

“Aren’t we already doing something, though? We’re talking, enjoying each other’s company… just being,” Roger rationalized, smirking. “I like this.”

Brian chuckled. “I like this too, but it’s not good for us to stay like this all day. We need to get some fresh air together, maybe… go somewhere?”

Roger’s smirk faded and he started to grow anxious again. He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “N-No… I don’t want to go out there. I-It’s safe in here. I like it better here.”

Concern shown on the guitarist’s face and he wrapped his arms around Roger who tensed up at first, but then relaxed again against him. He held him close, kissing his hair.

“It’s okay, Roger. I’m here. You’re safe. We don’t have to go anywhere…”

He relaxed a little bit, nodding against the older man. Outside represented scary things, dark things, James… it represented injustice and injury. Inside meant the people he loved, safety, warmth, comfort. As far as Roger thought, inside was much safer than outside.

“Come on, it’s almost time for dinner. Come help me?”

Roger didn’t feel up to it, to be honest, but the way that Brian asked him to help him made his knees weak and tingling sensations up and down his hands. “Sure.”

The two men crawled out of bed and headed towards the kitchen, seeing Freddie and John drinking beer and having a lively discussion.

“I just can’t _believe_ you would even say such a thing, darling! It’s uncalled for!”

John threw his arms up in the air. “I’m just saying… you can’t be serious! You’re wrong. You’re absolutely wrong about this, Freddie. Just admit it!”

Curiosity got the better of Brian now and after he asked Roger to fill the pot up with water, he turned to look at the other men.

“What are we talking about exactly?”

Freddie playfully narrowed his eyes. “John here believes that Led Zeppelin is better than Jimi Hendrix, but it matters not because he’s simply wrong.”

Roger chuckled, having expected the fight to be about an actual issue happening between them. He turned the burner on under the pot and then got the pasta out from a cupboard.

“Where do you stand on it, Brian?” John asked, curiously.

Brian shrugged before he chuckled as well and put his hands up. “I’m staying out of it, but I honestly have no opinion about it one way or another. “For the record, though, I prefer Zeppelin.”

“See?” John looked at Freddie smugly.

Freddie scoffed now. “You both have no taste, darlings. What is your opinion on the matter, Roger? Zeppelin or Hendrix?”

The drummer looked over at everyone who was expectantly looking at him for his answer. He cleared his throat and nervously scratched his neck. “Uhh… sorry, John. Fred. I like Hendrix, but I like Zeppelin more.”

Freddie gave a sound of disbelief and shock as John did the exact opposite and smirked in satisfaction. Brian chuckled and rolled his eyes playfully as he poured pasta into the now boiling pot of water.

“Well, it’s a good thing that I’m not dating you, Rog. We don’t even have the same taste in music!”

John looked disheartened. “Wait, but we’re together.”

“Yes,” Freddie agreed. “But I love you and I can overlook the fact that you have shit taste in music. I kid!” He put his hands up quickly before he smiled, John playfully hitting his arm.

“Okay, children… get your drinks and take a seat. Dinner will be done shortly,” Brian announced, grabbing four plates.

Once everyone got their food, they all sat down at the table and started to eat, casually chatting about this and that. For a few minutes, Roger had forgotten all about James and the pub, until he suddenly felt a wave of nausea in his stomach that sharply reminded him again.

He ran towards the bathroom before he emptied his stomach at the toilet, unsure where this was coming from. He heard footsteps follow him and then felt his blonde locks be held back as someone massaged his back.

“It’s okay…” Brian’s voice reassured him. “I’m right here, love.”

Roger closed his eyes and emptied his stomach one more time before he stood up and flushed. He didn’t feel like going back to the table, so he opted to go back to bed again, wanting the comforters to swallow him again.

Brian followed him and flipped the sheets over the two of them, his arm wrapping around the drummer to hold him close to him, kissing his neck. Roger closed his eyes, soon falling asleep.


	19. escape

**.     .    .**

The next morning, Roger felt the worst he had felt in a long time. Actually, he couldn’t remember when he had felt _this_ bad. He imagined it had to be when he was still living with his father, or with Tim.

He felt like the black hole had already sucked him into a void of hopelessness, emptiness, darkness. Roger felt like the only thing that existed at all was the absolute sadness he felt in the depth of his soul. He curled his legs into his chest and took a shaky breath as his voice trembled and tears ran down his cheeks. He felt his body shaking as he cried softly, and felt a gentle hand on his shoulder a few minutes later.

“Rog?”

The drummer didn’t bother to wipe away his tears; he didn’t care anymore who saw them. It wasn’t that he wanted attention or anything, he just felt apathy at who saw his pain. “I’m f-fine, Bri. Sorry I woke you…”

Brian gently moved the blonde so he could see his face and then cupped his cheek before thumbing away the warm tears. He looked at Roger with concern. “What is it, love?” He whispered. “Talk to me?”

Roger shook his head. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to do anything. Deep down, he knew why he was crying, though. This was about his father who couldn’t love him, Tim who hated him because of what he was, and James for hurting him because of what he considered Roger to be. It felt like everything rolled into one, and it felt like too much. Even thinking about talking about it aloud made his heart ache and his bones hurt.

“Come on, love. Please? I thought we agreed to let go of these feelings so we could help you out of your black hole…” Brian played with the comforter over the top of Roger’s body. “If you don’t talk about it, it’s just going to add up.”

“I don’t care,” the blonde declared, almost inaudibly. “Please… leave me alone. I just want to go back to sleep.”

He didn’t want to be so callous to Brian, but something inside of him felt icy and angry. The older man didn’t give up so easily, however.

He started to run his fingers gently, lovingly, through the drummer’s hair. “You’re not alone, Roger. I’m here for you, and John too, and I’m sure Freddie is as well. It’s not good for you to stay here in bed all day and think about everything.”

Roger knew it wasn’t good for him, but in this moment, he felt like staying under the covers was the only thing making him feel safe from the world. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, hoping that Brian would eventually give up and assume that Roger had fallen asleep.

He felt eyes on him for several moments, and then a helpless sigh, before a kiss to his forehead and then he heard Brian’s heavy footsteps lead out of the bedroom and head out towards the kitchen. Roger opened his eyes again and started to sob quietly in the dark, unable to fool himself.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but sometime later, he heard footsteps again and then saw John come in and make his way over to his bedside.

A few moments of silence, and then he heard the bassist’s voice and felt his fingers lace with his own. Roger couldn’t help but give a soft squeeze. Something about John’s touch was so delicate and innocent that the blonde wanted to reassure him that he would be all right, even if he wasn’t sure about it himself.

“How’re you feeling, Rog?” The younger man’s soft voice asked.

 Roger shrugged but then shook his head, as if to tell John that he wasn’t okay but he didn’t know what to do about it. John nodded knowingly and lay down beside him before wrapping an arm around his body. The drummer accidentally let out a sob and it only made John hug him closer.

The two men lay side by side for about two hours, not saying a word in the darkness of the room, when Brian knocked on the door quietly before slipping inside. Roger’s eyes looked up at the familiar dark mop of hair and saw the guitarist give a small smile to John, who seemed to nod and take that as his cue to excuse himself to shower. Once he had left the room, Brian gently sat down on the edge of the bed so he could see Roger’s face.

“Still feeling low, love?” His voice was gentle, understanding. It made Roger feel even guiltier about how selfish he was being.

Roger nodded but then turned onto his back, looking up at the older man. “I don’t want to go out there.”

“Why not?”

The drummer shrugged. “Because they’re probably going to judge me, for being like this, you know? For being s-selfish… I can’t stop feeling like this, though. I-I don’t know how to stop.”

Brian moved a bit closer now and planted a kiss to Roger’s lips softly before he searched his face. “No one is going to judge you for being depressed, Rog. None of us. We love you, and we’re all here for you. You can’t help how you feel. Even I know it’s about brain chemistry. No one wants to feel how you’re feeling right now.”

Roger nodded at his words, and although he felt partially relieved, he still felt empty and cold. “Thanks, Bri, but… I just want to be alone right now.”

“I know you do,” the other man nodded but remained planted in his spot on the bed. “But I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I know you’re depressed, but I also know you enough that it’s more than that. Are you feeling a bit nervous, maybe? About my uni friend checking on you?”

Roger tensed, swallowing hard. He hadn’t forgotten about that for sure, but that hadn’t been the thing at the forefront of his mind at this moment. He nodded, figuring this reason was most likely one of the reasons why his body was making him feel so low.

“Well, I called him, and he can’t come around until tomorrow, so let’s not worry about that until then, yeah?” Roger nodded again, but Brian seemed to read him. “What else, then? Come on… out with it, Roger.”

“It doesn’t matter, Brian. Just… just leave it, yeah?”

The guitarist raised his brows in disbelief before he shook his head, worry in his eyes. “No, not this time. Of course it matters, Rog. Everything that touches you matters to me, and everyone else in this flat, like it or not. Don’t get the impression for one second that anything that happens to you, happens in a vacuum. It all matters and it all affects us.”

Roger sighed before he sat up in bed, starting to get frustrated. He knew that Brian was just trying to do what anyone in a loving relationship does, but Roger didn’t want it.

 _He didn’t deserve it._ Or at least that what he kept telling himself.

“Just leave me alone. I know you want to help me, but you can’t, so you should just stop wasting your time!”

Brian tongued his cheek but he was still shaking his head. “I’m not wasting my time, Rog, not on you. You’ve just been through a trauma, something that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. You need to talk about it… or it’s just going to eat you up like it is right now.”

It was now that Roger got himself out of bed and immediately almost fell back down, unable to remember the last time he had eaten a real meal. He turned on Brian, feeling his anger turning outward now.

“I’m not talking about anything. You don’t deserve to have to deal with me… deal with… all this shit. I shouldn’t have ever came back home again from that pub or… wherever the fuck I was when James raped me,” Roger felt hot tears in his eyes as he started to get dressed.

Brian’s eyes widened and he moved closer in front of him, putting his arms out. “Wait, where are you going? I’ll come too.”

“No!” Roger growled now, pulling his shirt down with more force than he had meant to. “ _You’re_ staying here. You’re not coming with me. I need air. I need… I need to walk.”

The older man didn’t make an attempt to move out of his way. “No, Roger,” he spoke a bit firmly now. “You’re either staying here, or I’m coming with you! Those are your only options. You need to rest and you need to be safe and you’re not going to be either of those things if you leave by yourself.”

Roger inhaled angrily through his nostrils, feeling himself start to lose patience. He reached over and grabbed his cigarettes and lighter off the bedside table before shoving them in his pants. “Move, Bri. I mean it! You aren’t stopping me from leaving.”

Brian made a motion with his arms. “Then you’re going to have to go straight through me to get out of here.”

The tone of the room changed dramatically, and both men felt it. Brian was tall and loving, and Roger was stubborn and angry, and now a time bomb. The latter man started towards him and made a move to go around him, but the guitarist reacted easily and grabbed Roger’s arms to push him back, blocking the path to the doorway.

“Stay, Rog! Please… let’s just talk! That’s all I want to do…”

The drummer clenched his jaw and groaned as he tried to push back against him. “I’m sick of talking. I’m sick of feeling this fucking way! I just need to get out, now let me through, Brian!”

He moved backwards a few steps as Roger forced him back, but he continued to push back. Roger didn’t see how he’d be able to escape this place unless he hurt him, and that’s what he did.

He sucker punched Brian in the face and then again in his ribs before he ran towards the door.

“What in the hell is going on in here…?” Freddie asked in a daze when he saw the drummer running towards the exit.

“S-Stop him! He’s going to leave!” Brian yelled, holding his ribs with one arm as he stumbled out.

But Freddie and John weren’t quick enough and Roger was already running out into the street, not looking back. He ran and ran, and then ran some more until he realized he didn’t even know where he was heading. He had been woefully unprepared for the weather outside; there was a brisk chill in the air and he didn’t even know where he was going to go.

He only stopped running when he knew for sure that no one was chasing him and he looked around, coughing. Roger tried to catch his breath before he ran his hands through his hair. He glanced at the nearest street sign and realized that he wasn’t too far from his university. He felt his pockets and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt his wallet in his left pocket; good thing he had chosen to re-wear his pants from the day before.

He hailed a cab and took it to his university, paid the cab fare, and then hurried inside to escape the devastating cold, instantly feeling warmth touching his bones.

_What the fuck was he going to do now? Live here?_

He was doing the obvious: running away from his problems, but the issue was that he couldn’t escape it because the problem wasn’t at home; it was in his head. He couldn’t run away from himself. He, himself, was the problem.

The blonde could feel a headache forming and started to walk around the building until he found the perfect hiding spot in the library where he wouldn’t be disturbed, and where no one else would find him. Roger lay down in the spot and curled up before he shut his eyes and forced himself to go to sleep.

 

**……. .. ………… … …………**

Roger felt like he hadn’t slept very long when he was abruptly jolted out of a bad dream, gasping for air. He looked around quickly, but didn’t see anyone. He suddenly burst out sobbing and felt a familiar fire in his chest.

James had been in his dream, and he had been choking Roger with a sick smile on his face. It had felt so vivid that Roger wouldn’t have been half surprised if he had woken up and the bastard had been right there. He pulled himself together after several minutes and felt a rumble in his stomach.

He stood up and headed out of the library to the vending machine he knew was nearby. Judging by the amount of sunlight in the building, it had to be around eight, which meant that the early bird students would be on their way to class, and he could blend right in if need be.

He had been so preoccupied with his own thoughts that he was startled when he felt himself run into someone.

“Hey, watch it, yeah?”

That voice.

He knew that voice.

Roger looked up quickly and saw Liam, and he felt a rush of déjà vu strike him full force, remembering the first time the two had literally run into each other. He felt frozen in place as recognition touched Liam’s eyes.

“Roger… haven’t seen you in a while,” Liam smirked. “Thought you had flunked out or something.”

He felt himself unfreeze now, and nausea swam in his stomach at the thought of their last meeting. “I believe the last time we saw each other, you called me a poof.”

“Yeah, well…” Liam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Still are one, aren’t you?”

Roger considered lying, but as he thought about it, everyone in his life already knew the truth about it, so there wasn’t any point in denying it. “Yeah, I guess I am. Are _you_? What the hell are you, even? You had no problem making out with me, but then you call me a fag the next moment!”

Liam gave a half smirk and shrugged. “And you beat me up, but… I missed you, Rog. I’m actually glad I ran into you. I wanted to apologize.”

The drummer searched his eyes but didn’t see any sign of truth nor lie. He felt guilty that a part of him wanted to believe him; it’d be nice to have one less enemy in the world. He set his jaw.

“Fine, I accept your apology. Are we done here?”

Liam narrowed his eyes slightly but gave a pursed-lipped smile. “If you want to be, yeah.”

Roger didn’t need to be told twice. He started towards the vending machines but realization dawned on him. He couldn’t stay here, not with Liam still walking around. If he ran into him once, he might run into him again as long as he stayed here at the university.

He thought back to yesterday to his fight with Brian. He didn’t want to talk to anyone either. He felt trapped.

Roger swallowed hard and felt panic swallowing him whole. He didn’t know what to do. He was feeling at a loss for options. It felt like his world was caving in on him: James was still out there, Liam was still around, and he was just a burden to Brian and the others.

He felt hot tears in his eyes as he paced outside, his mind racing.

He would never escape from the men who had hurt him. Justice would never be seen, and those monsters would both continue to walk the earth.

_Maybe Roger was the one who needed to stop walking the earth._

If he wasn’t around, then he wouldn’t ever be afraid of James again. He could escape his own way.


	20. Help!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: This chapter contains a rather graphic description of a suicide attempt. If you aren't in a good place mentally, please refrain from either reading this chapter and wait for the next one, or just skip ahead of this chapter. If you are feeling suicidal, please reach out and talk to a friend or loved one, or call this hotline: 1-800-273-8255
> 
> Remember: Someone, somewhere cares about you and would miss you if you weren't here anymore.

**.     .     .**

It was getting colder and Roger’s mind felt like a whirlwind of various emotions, most of them involving panic. He hugged his arms around himself and decided to go back home. He felt so lost and he knew he needed Brian to make him feel right again.

He decided to make himself suffer though by walking all the way there. By the time he arrived home about forty minutes later, he was nearly frozen. He turned the knob but found it was locked, which was somewhat surprising.

Thankfully he had a key. He unlocked it and let himself in before closing it and looking around. It was dark, and things lay scattered. He hoped that Brian was okay, but then his thoughts starting trailing off to terrible paths; what if Roger had broken his nose or his ribs and had to be taken to the hospital?

_Another thing that was his fault. Another shitty thing that Roger had managed to do. Just add it to the list._

Being gay, disappointing his father, being a bad friend, band mate, and boyfriend to Brian and the rest, screwing things up with Liam, messing things up so James couldn’t be caught and held accountable for the rape… as far as Roger was concerned, all these things were his fault.

He threw his key down on the table and then made a beeline for the bathroom and took everything off except his boxers; what would it matter anyway? He wasn’t taking a proper bath.

He did, however, decide to fill the tub up with warm water. If he was going to off himself, he at least wanted to drift off comfortably and not shivering. Roger walked over to the medicine cabinet and grabbed one of the unused razors in a small shaving box in the medicine cabinet. The shiny metal seemed to call to him, as if it needed him its whole life, as if every moment in Roger’s life had led up to this single moment right now.

This felt like the right thing for him to do.

Brian, John, and Freddie would all be free from him. They wouldn’t all have to put up with his drama anymore. They’d all be better off without him around. The world would be better off.

Tim would be happy that he was dead, as would his father. _One less fag in the world_ , as they would both see it.

He felt warm tears trail down his cheeks at the thought of it all, and the more he thought about it, the better doing this felt. He was going nowhere, this was for the best, for everyone.

Roger shut the water off and got into the tub, half sitting, half lying down in it, letting the warm water wash over his body one last time. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

Making sure his arm was completely under the water, he took the razor and dragged it down his arm, cutting into the vital tissue that was keeping him alive. It took more pressure than he imagined it would, but he didn’t hesitate as he used more force before he moved onto the other wrist, performing the same action he did with the first.

He gasped for air, feeling a tidal wave of dizziness take over now as he only heard the beating of his heart in his ears. The pain in his wrists magnified and he started to cry out in agony, panic taking over now. He watched as the water in the tub started to turn red, and then he heard a muffled scream, and a shout.

He glanced over just in time to see Brian with sheer terror on his face with John and Freddie suddenly running in as well, hearing the guitarist’s cries for help.

“Call an ambulance!”

Freddie ran out hurriedly, leaving John looking panicked as he watched Brian pull Roger out of the tub quickly and grabbed towels from nearby to wrap around both of Roger’s wrists as makeshift tourniquets to stop the bleeding.

Roger felt Brian hold him close to him right before the drummer felt himself pass out.

 

**…………. … ……………….**

When Roger woke up, he had a pounding headache, he was still somewhat dizzy, and he felt agony in his wrists. He looked around at his surroundings and then down at his bandaged wrists and a somewhat injured Brian.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but he saw that Brian’s nose was, in fact, broken, but looked as if someone had fixed it. The guitarist definitely looked like he had been crying; his eyes were red and puffy, but now he was sleeping.

Roger sighed. This had backfired on him. He thought for sure that his life had met its end, and now he had somehow continued to be everyone’s problem. _Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

Roger kicked the bottom of his bed in anger at himself, accidentally waking up Brian who rubbed his eyes quickly before he looked down at the drummer.

“Shit… Roger, you’re all right now. Try and calm down, yeah?”

Roger didn’t want to calm down, not when his plan backfired so brilliantly. He swallowed hard and then looked at his boyfriend. The two men stared at each other, mentally tiptoeing around each other for several minutes as the elephant in the room knocked down every wall.

Finally, Brian spoke.

“Say something, Rog. Please…” The pleading in his tone made Roger start crying again. There he went again, causing the man he loves more pain.

“I-I don’t even know what to say, Bri.”

The guitarist sighed but when he looked at Roger, the blonde saw tears filling up in his eyes now as well, and then felt his stomach sink.

“L-Let’s start with this,” he pointed to the bandages. “Why? Why did you do this?”

There was no simple answer, and he knew Brian knew it as well. He didn’t know where to start, and the thought of explaining all his reasons made his head start to spin. It was all overwhelming.

Roger shrugged instead. “I… didn’t want to be alive anymore.” It seemed to be the obvious answer, but it was more truthful than anything else.

“W-Why…? I mean, I know that you’ve been depressed for several reasons but I… I thought we could help you through it all, that… _I_ could help you through it.”

Roger looked out the window, away from Brian. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was dark outside now. It felt like it was late.

“It was just… too much, Bri. It was all too much for me, too much for you… Christ, Brian! You shouldn’t have to put up with me. I’m a bloody train wreck! I can’t do this!” Roger started sobbing. “I-I can’t….be anything for you! I don’t know how to get through anything. I… don’t fucking know how to deal with _anything!_ I s-saw Liam and I felt like… like all the monsters in my life are still out there and I can’t deal with t-them just walking around like nothing ever happened! It’s just too much. I c-can’t…”

He was a trembling mess, but right now, he didn’t care. He felt like he was at rock bottom and couldn’t go any lower. He felt Brian climb into bed with him now and wrap his arms tightly around him. Roger felt like his body was just going to split off and explode, and Brian was the only thing stopping that from happening, so he hugged him back tightly.

He sobbed into his chest so hard, his stomach and throat hurt but _god it felt so good_.

It felt like hours before he finally stopped crying into him, and when he looked up, he saw Brian looking back down at him.

“W-What did they do?” When Brian looked confused, Roger clarified right away. “T-The doctors, to… to save me.”

“Oh, right. They stopped your bleeding and stitched you up… they sterilized the wounds, and then they bandaged your wrists up. They… said if I hadn’t done the tourniquets at home, you…. y-you would’ve died, Rog.”

Roger felt his chest ache and guilt twist in his stomach. He didn’t think he’d be around to feel guilty about his actions. He thought he would’ve died, and wouldn’t have to be around to see everyone else suffer. He looked down at his wrists and thumbed his bandages tenderly, getting lost in his own thoughts.

_Another thing he had failed at._

“They wanted you to see a therapist.”

Roger instantly started to shake his head. “No. I don’t need one.”

Brian bit his lip, quiet for several moments before he took a breath. “I disagree, Roger. I think you do need one, but… I told them I knew a therapist and that you would talk to that one instead of a hospital appointed one.”

Roger looked up now and searched his face. “You lied?”

Brian shook his head. “No, not exactly. My friend, who’s supposed to see you tomorrow has his license as a therapist. He got it just a few days ago.”

Roger kicked the end of the bed again. “Fuck! No! No!”

Brian gently placed his hand on his leg to stop him. “Roger, hey… hey, stop that! You need to talk with someone because… you’re not talking to any of us, and… you almost ended up killing yourself. You need this, whether you like it or not, but I’m still here for you. He’ll still be checking you out, testing your blood and whatnot from… from the r-rape, but… you’re also going to sit in a room and talk to him as well.”

Roger hated the idea of all of this. Nothing got better, only worse. He tried to resist kicking the bed again and instead buried himself in Brian’s chest, breathing him in. He let out a soft sob.

“S-So… he’s still coming t-tomorrow?”

Brian shook his head, holding Roger close to him. “No, the day after. They want to hold you for twenty-four hours, under suicide watch, to make sure you don’t hurt yourself again. We’ll go home in a couple days.”

The drummer nodded against him, because that’s all he could do right now. He didn’t have a say in anything, but he knew that Brian was just trying to help him. It wasn’t his fault, and it was tiring to place blame anyway. He felt so tired.

“What time is it?”

Brian released him but still ran his fingers through Roger’s locks. “Nearly nine.”

He must have been in surgery for a while.

“Where’s Freddie and John?”

“They’re waiting downstairs in the waiting area. They’re both worried about you, but John wants to talk to you next. I can have them go home and come back tomorrow, if you want, instead? You’ve got to be pretty exhausted.”

“I am, but… I’d like to see John, if that’s all right?”

Brian gave him a loving smile and leaned in to kiss Roger’s lips softly before he pulled away and nodded. “Of course. I’ll go downstairs and get him.”

He got off the bed and ran his hand down Roger’s leg until he got to his bare feet and held them in his hands gently. He looked across the bed at his boyfriend. “I know you’re probably feeling disappointed about all of this, perhaps about… surviving your attempt, but… I’m glad you’re alive, Roger. I really am.”

Roger searched Brian’s face and rubbed the tears from his face before he nodded, unsure what else to do or say, not feeling the same way about the situation. Brian gently squeezed Roger’s foot before he left the room. Roger glanced over and saw a nurse come in a few moments later, obviously afraid to leave Roger alone.

She checked on everything and eyed him cautiously before she grabbed a chair and sat down on it in the corner. It was apparent she wasn’t going to be going anywhere anytime soon.

Roger sighed, finding himself feeling anxious as he waited for John to come in. This wasn’t how he wanted the bassist to see him. He saw the younger man enter the room five minutes later though, and walk over to him a bit hesitantly, eyeing the bandages.

“Hey, Deaks,” Roger tried to smile weakly, attempting to lighten up the darkness of this reality.

John gave a weak smile back, but there was fear in his eyes. “I-I was so scared you weren’t going to m-make it, Roger… there was so much blood in the water, oh god…”

He saw John run his hands through his hair and give a shaky sigh before he looked back at Roger again. The drummer looked at him with apology in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, John. I am. I… I don’t know what else to say about this. I thought I was doing all of you a favor.”

John’s eyes widened now in disbelief. “A-A favor? A fucking favor? Are you kidding me? You’re selfish! You’re a selfish son-of-a-bitch, Roger!” John’s voice trembled now with anger. “I can’t believe you’d do this, I can’t believe you would just make yourself disappear because things aren’t going your way.”

His words cut Roger like a knife. He looked up at John with pain in his eyes. “Because things aren’t going my way? Really? I was raped, John. I was fucking raped by a monster, and beat up by another one because of… what I am. I’m sorry for scaring you but I didn’t do his shit because things ‘weren’t going my way.’”

John bit his lip and shook his head before he glanced over at the nurse who occasionally peered over her paper to keep an eye on Roger before she looked back down at her paper again. The bassist was still looking furiously at him, though, and it occurred to Roger that he had never seen John looking so angry before. It was seriously unsettling.

“You have three people that are here for you, Roger. You had three people, and you chose not to confide in any of us! You didn’t even bother to reach out. We could’ve pulled you back from the brink if you had just… _talked_ to one of us!”

Roger shook his head now, feeling warm tears run down his cheeks again. He roughly wiped at them this time, not wanting to cry in front of John. “This is depression, John. It _is_ selfish and cold and fucking ridiculous. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be helped by any of you. I felt like… I deserved to feel this pain inside of me. I deserved to feel all of it, alone.”

“That’s bullshit, Rog. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Roger couldn’t restrain himself anymore. “Fuck you, John. You don’t get it, and that’s fine, but you don’t have the right to tell me what is bullshit when _I’m_ the one that’s feeling all of it! I’m not asking you to stay with me, if this is too much for you, I get it. I do! I’m going to give Brian the same out as well. Just don’t tell me what’s bullshit. I have to deal with this, not you. I know what I’m feeling.”

John was also roughly wiping away tears now.

“I’m sorry, Rog. I’m sorry that you felt like you had to go through all of this alone, and I’m still your mate, but I can’t be anything more than that when you can’t even trust me enough to talk to me about things. I can’t do this with you…”

It was all Roger could do to not burst out sobbing as he realized what John was doing now. It was all he could do not to start screaming and yelling at John, so he remained quiet. He just nodded, trying to understand, pretending that he understood.

“Say something, Rog,” John pleaded now, albeit a bit coldly. “Fucking say something. Doesn’t this bother you?”

Roger looked up at him now, forcing himself to lock eyes. “Of course this bothers me, Deaks. You’re breaking up with me because I tried to kill myself and it’s too much for you. It fucking hurts, but you have to do what’s best for you, even if it hurts me. I don’t know what else you want me to say. Thanks for the chance to kiss you? It was real nice.”

And Roger meant it. It had been nice.

John chewed on his bottom lip before nodding in agreement. “Feel better, Rog. I’ll see you when you get home in a couple days. I’m going to go home.”

The drummer just nodded, trying to act like none of this felt like a stab in his chest on a loop. He watched as John awkwardly touched his arm before he left the room. It was only when he knew John was out of earshot when he started to cry quietly, the nurse glancing up to make sure he was making no attempts to kill himself again.

A part of him knew that if he survived this suicide attempt that people weren’t going to be very forgiving of him. He didn’t mean to cause John pain, but he felt like he could understand where he was coming from. Would Roger be able to still be with either of them if they had done the same thing? Maybe for Brian, but perhaps not for John. He hadn’t known John as long, and he didn’t think he would be able to help the bassist, so Roger felt like he couldn’t be angry at him for deciding to break up with him.

It was selfish, he knew, but he was on a roll this week for selfishness.

He waited about an hour but then felt relief again when he saw Brian walk back in the room and over to his bed, this time sitting in the chair nearby again.

“I’m so sorry, Rog. John just told me about him breaking things off with you,” Brian shook his head in disbelief. “Are you okay?” His tone was laced heavily with genuine concern.

Roger shrugged and sighed. “Depends. Are you planning on breaking up with me next? No pressure, but I’m not sure if I could handle two breakups in one day.”

Brian gave a small smirk and shook his head. “No, sorry… you’re stuck with me.”

“Good.” Roger reached out to him, and felt warmth spread through him as the older man took his hand in his own and held it tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Roger.”


	21. try

**.    .    .**

The air was thick with tension as Roger sat upright in bed with Freddie sitting next to him and a nurse sitting in the corner once again the next afternoon. The two men had been sitting in silence for a long time, both of them feeling hesitant to remark about what had happened last night with John and the drummer.

Finally, Freddie spoke.

“He’ll forgive you in time, darling. He just… doesn’t understand. Not everyone understands what you’re feeling, Roger, and I know that can be frustrating. John will come around, though.”

Roger shook his head, unsure if he even wanted John to come around and forgive him; there was no way that he’d forgive himself for failing so miserably. He swallowed hard. “Just tell him to forget it, Freddie. If he’s not willing to understand, then he’s not going to help me much, is he?”

Freddie gave him a sympathetic smile before he reached out and placed his hand on top of Roger’s. “I can help him to understand, dear. Do you still love John?”

Roger thought about it for a long moment before he looked down at his lap and nodded, feeling stupid for loving someone who just broke up with him.

“Then give it time and give him another chance if he chooses to come back to you. John can be a terribly stubborn person, but he’s worth it, Rog. He’s young. He’ll understand in time.”

Roger sniffed, dying for a cigarette. “Do _you_ understand why I did it, Fred?” He asked quietly.

The singer inhaled deeply before exhaling through his nose, leaning forward. “I believe so, yes. You’ve been through so many terrible things, Roger, some of them I can completely understand and some I can’t even fathom. I don’t… blame you for doing what you did, but I want to help you move on from here, if you’ll let me of course, darling.”

Roger nodded, knowing that he could never look back again on his regret of his failed suicide attempt. He couldn’t let this eat him up anymore. “Yeah, all right, Freddie.”

“Good,” the singer smiled. “We look forward from here on out, yes? We take things one hour at a time or one day at a time, and you ask for help when you need it. No more keeping secrets from us.”

The drummer nodded again in agreement, knowing that his friend was right. He looked down at his bandaged wrists and the hospital bracelet on top of it and felt his heart sink again. He felt the self-hatred creeping back into his veins, and Freddie must have noticed it as well because he spoke once more.

“Darling… Roger, _these_ ,” he gently took both bandaged wrists in his hands, “These don’t define you. You’re only human, and it would be silly and ridiculous to pretend otherwise. We all make mistakes, but you’re not alone, not anymore. We are all here for you, even John. All right?”

Freddie’s words made Roger relax a bit and he nodded, wanting to believe him. He wasn’t sure about John still being there for him, but he still hoped he was. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed tiredly.

“I need to get out of here. I’m going crazy. I fucking hate hospitals, Freddie…”

The singer smirked. “I know you do, Rog, but you’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning. I believe that Brian is outside the door, waiting his turn with you if you’d like me to get him?”

Roger gave him a grateful smile now and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“Excellent! I’ll be right back.”

Roger watched as the singer left the room and a few minutes later, Brian walked in with a smile on his face, his eyes bright with hope and love. Roger couldn’t help but smile back lovingly at him and took his hand as soon as Brian sat down beside him.

“Have a nice chat with Fred?” Brian kissed the back of his boyfriend’s hand.

Roger nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, it was all right, I suppose. I didn’t think I would miss you so much, though.”

“Aw come on, now. Freddie isn’t that bad, is he?” Brian teased, chuckling.

Roger shook his head. “No, of course not. I just want to go home. I’m ready to get out of here. I miss our bed, our loo, Scrabble… I miss Freddie’s shitty coffee and cigarettes and your omelets. I miss every fucking thing.”

Brian nodded and searched his eyes. “I know, love. We’ll be home tomorrow. Just…” he glanced over at the clock on the wall. “About fourteen more hours to go, and you’re home free. How are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “All right, I guess. I’m just sick of lying here like a lump.”

“Not much difference from how you are at home, though,” Brian smirked playfully as Roger gently punched his arm. He put his hands up in surrender. “I kid!”

The two men chatted for a few hours until the sun began to set. Nights were the worst for Roger. It was when he felt the most alone, even when he surrounded by nurses.

“Can you… sleep here, with me? I don’t want to be alone,” he confessed softly.

The guitarist nodded and smiled before he crawled onto the bed and lay beside him, holding him close, much to the displeasure of the nurse who eyed them with disapproving eyes before looking back at her paper. Neither man seemed to notice or care, though. All they needed was each other.

 

**…………… … ………………….**

The first thing Roger did when he was discharged the following morning was light a cigarette and give the middle finger to the hospital building before he let out a whoop and a holler of excitement to be out of there and slipped into the cab with Brian to head home.

“I fucking hate hospitals,” the drummer remarked, shivering at the thought of being back in that building, inhaling and then exhaling the smoke through his nose.

Brian let out a chuckle, feeling better seeing his man in such high spirits. “I know you do, love. Hopefully you won’t have to go back anytime soon. I’m glad you’re with me again.”

Roger nodded, smiling softly. “Me too. I could feel myself going crazy in there! Apparently no one else will be glad to see me back home, but… I can’t blame them, can I?” His demeanor suddenly changed rapidly, without warning, his smile faltering.

The guitarist turned towards him and shook his head in objection. “Roger, Freddie and John bear no ill will towards you. We don’t blame you for anything. Thinking that way isn’t going to do any favors for you.”

Roger gave a nod and sighed, looking down at his lap. “Yeah,” he agreed. “I know, but… John was… fucking angry at me the other day, saying how selfish I am for doing what I did. I’ve never seen him so mad before, Bri.”

Brian sighed softly and shook his head before he glanced out the window. “He’ll come back around. He was just scared. He thought we had lost you forever when he saw you with your wrists opened. Hell, _I_ thought I had lost you forever. We were all so scared, Rog.”

The blonde swallowed hard and took another drag from his cigarette before he put it out and threw it out of the window of the cab. “I know, I know… I didn’t mean to scare any of you, but… I just had other thoughts in my head at the time, you know? You all should just kick me out of the flat. I’m no good to anyone.”

Brian reached over and laced his hand in his boyfriend’s. “You’re good to me. Never mind John… just… focus on the two of us, yeah? Things will get easier in time. Don’t even think about the band. Just focus on getting to a better state mentally.”

Roger nodded again before he ran a hand through his hair. “What are these pills for again? I’m sick of taking pills.” He took out the orange pill bottle from his pants the hospital gave him and gently shook it, examining the pills.

“Fluoxetine. The doctors said they’re for depression and the others are to help you sleep at night. Hopefully they’ll help you some.”

Roger looked at the bottles before stuffing them back into his pockets. “How do they know they’ll help me, though?”

Brian searched the blonde’s face. “Chemicals, love. You’ve studied biology, Rog. You know how it works, right? It affects the serotonin chemicals in the brain.”

It was true that he did study biology but he hadn’t yet gotten to that topic. He had basically let himself flunk out before he could get that far. He nodded, though, figuring that Brian was smart and more educated than he was. He felt his stomach clench the closer they got to home.

“What if John’s still mad at me? I can’t face him, Brian.”

The guitarist wrapped an arm around the back of the seat, a subtle enough gesture to be considered casual but also intimate enough to Roger. He turned to face him. “Like I said earlier, never mind him if he is. Just do whatever makes you comfortable, be around whoever makes you comfortable. If John is out of line, or… tries to blame you again, ignore him, walk away, come find me… you have options, Rog. You don’t have to let yourself be bullied by him.”

Roger relaxed a little and took a deep breath before he let it out and nodded. He was already starting to feel a little bit better about coming home now, even though the cab arrived a lot sooner than he was ready for it to.

The two men got out and headed inside the flat. Roger tensed a bit and glanced around until he locked eyes with John who was making tea in the kitchen. The bassist instantly looked back down.

“Welcome home, Rog,” Brian smiled brightly, affectionately rubbing his boyfriend’s shoulders.

Roger smiled back at him, leaning into his body. “Thanks, Bri.”

Brian kissed his lips before letting go and scurrying down the hallway to the loo, leaving Roger alone with John who was now walking into the living with a cup of tea in his hand. The two men stood awkwardly across from each other.

John didn’t even look angry, which made this harder for Roger. The younger man looked as if he were about to apologize or cry, but didn’t do either until the blonde couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Out with it then, Deaky,” he encouraged, throwing his arms up. “Let’s just… get this over with.”

John sipped his tea. “What are you talking about? Get what over with?”

Roger scoffed, shaking his head. “Yell at me, tell me how selfish I am. I want to fast forward this shit so we can be okay again. I don’t want this to just be another thing I’ll have to deal with until it eats me up inside.”

John shook his head and shrugged. “I said everything I had to say at the hospital, Roger. We’re still not exactly okay, but I’m not going to let it get in the way of practicing or playing, or writing songs. I can still be professional.”

Roger wasn’t sure what to say to John after this; he had expected a fight. He just nodded and bit his lip as Freddie came into the room.

The drummer wasn’t prepared when he pulled Roger in for a tight hug. “Oh, Roger! You’re finally home! I’m so glad you’re here, darling. The place wasn’t the same without you.”

Roger watched as John looked between them, perhaps jealously, and sat down on the couch before going back to his tea. He looked over at Freddie and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Fred. It’s good to be home again.”

The singer smiled at him. “Can I get you anything, Rog? Tea, coffee, toast?”

“Er,” Roger cleared his throat, feeling a bit overwhelmed at Freddie’s helpfulness. “No, thanks. I actually think I’m going to take a bath once Brian get out. I could use a shower.”

He saw Freddie visibly tense up now and heard John curse to himself as he spilled a bit of tea on himself. Roger couldn’t blame them, though; the last time they had seen him in the bath, he was barely alive and dripping blood all over the bathroom tiles.

“Roger, dear, due to… recent developments, and I _do_ hope you’ll understand, one of us will have to supervise you during your showers and baths, until the medications start to help you,” Freddie tried to explain, not indelicately.

The drummer thought he was going to be sick, but he knew that Freddie meant well. If the tables were turned, he’d probably think the same way as well. It didn’t mean that Roger had to like it, though.

“I-I’m so sorry, darling,” Freddie stammered as he gently placed a hand on his friend’s arm. “I still love you dearly, and I still believe you’re a wonderful person, Roger but –"

“ – But you don’t trust me anymore,” Roger finished for him, pursing his lips and clenching his jaw.

A beat of silence. Freddie sighed softly. “I wouldn’t say I don’t trust you at all, dear. I trust you to help any of us when we need it, but… I’m afraid we just can’t trust you by yourself, yet.”

Even though Roger’s heart knew that they weren’t out of line with what they had decided to do, his head was telling him differently. “This is bullshit, Freddie.” He spun around on his heel and started for the bathroom as soon as he saw Brian had stepped out.

He was less surprised when he saw the guitarist step back in as Roger began to undress, and lock the door. He looked at the blonde with apology in his eyes, examining Roger almost hesitantly. He felt his heart sink into his stomach when he noticed that Brian looked almost ashamed.

“You understand why I have to do this, yeah?” Brian’s face softened and Roger nodded, filling the tub up with warm water. “I’m sorry, love. I promise this won’t be forever, just until you can get back on your feet, mentally.

“I know,” Roger nodded. He watched as Brian grabbed all the razors he could see in the shower, setting them on the sink, out of reach. “Really? Do you think I’m going to try it again?”

He slipped into the bath and breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the warmth of the water start to relax his nerves.

Brian knelt down beside the bathtub and he shrugged before he looked up at the drummer. “I don’t know, Roger. You might… I just can’t chance anything again. I can’t afford to lose you, now that I finally have you and we’re together. I’m not doing this to baby you or treat you like an irresponsible child… I just want to get rid of temptation for you.”

Roger wanted to be angry, more than anything, but he couldn’t find it within him to be. He looked down at his wrists that were now free from bandages, but now two long, deep healing scars were visible that ran down from his wrists to his forearms. He felt disgusted with himself.

“Hey,” Brian spoke gently, leaning closer to him and gently took his arm. He looked down at the scars before he looked back at Roger. “These scars don’t define you. I know who you are, and they’re just raised skin. The scars won’t be so rough in time. They just prove how strong you actually are to still be here today, with all of us.”

Roger looked away. “What makes you think I want to be here?”

The question made the older man quiet for several moments, as if he wanted to choose his words carefully before he spoke. “You might still feel depressed and suicidal, and… that’s understandable. It’s not going to just… go away forever because you’re taking medication, but… you’re still alive and here today, with me. A part of you, no matter how small, wanted to live. You wanted to survive, because you’re a fighter. You’ve always been a fighter, and even though I haven’t always liked that about you, I’m glad for it now. Can you understand any of that? Does… that even make sense?”

It made more sense to Roger than any of the doctors did his time in the hospital. He felt tears fill up in his eyes and he looked back at Brian with soft eyes. When he blinked, one of the tears escaped and made a trail down his skin.

He nodded quickly to Brian’s question before he reached out and suddenly hugged him close, neither man caring that Roger was getting his boyfriend completely soaked. If he was bothered by it, Brian didn’t let it show, and they stayed like that for what seemed like ages.

Finally, Roger untangled himself from him and sunk back in the tub, letting out a shaky breath as Brian reached for a towel to dab at himself unsuccessful, giving Roger a playful smile.

“T-Thank you, Bri…” Roger said in a low voice. “I am still depressed, but… I-I think I’m glad that a part of me wanted to keep living too.”

Brian smiled lovingly now and leaned in, kissing Roger’s lips deeply. When he pulled away, he saw him looking back at him with a small smile as well.

“Let’s try and think of this as a fresh start,” Brian whispered, searching the drummer’s eyes. “Our life together is just beginning. We’ll get through this, I promise, but… I need you to make an attempt to meet me, and the others, halfway.”

Roger nodded. “I can do that, or… I mean, I can at least try.”

“Good. That’s all I want you to do, Roger. Just try.”


	22. forgiveness

**.   .   .**

**  
** Roger kept his promise over the next few weeks. He tried, as best he could. He attempted to meet the others halfway in an attempt to help himself. He took his medications, like a good boy, ate three meals a day, drank more water than alcohol, and made conscious decisions to stay home instead of going out to pubs late at night.

He tried not to lock himself in his and Brian’s room when the depression crept in, but sometimes, the depression won, and he ended up doing just that. He would crawl under the covers and either stare into nothingness or sob.

His depression medication made him feel numb more than anything, so he stopped taking it, and that’s when it would hit him like a freight train. He hated crying, especially in front of the other guys, but sometimes he couldn’t help it and it just poured out of him.

Today was one of those days.

He _had_ locked himself in the bedroom, and he _had_ sobbed for a good hour or so, curled into himself. He had just finished and was wiping his eyes when he heard a knock at the door.

“Rog? Are you awake?” The voice was gentle, soft.

The drummer sniffed and took a deep breath before he cleared his throat. “Y-You can come in, Bri…”

The door opened and the man on the other side of the door walked inside, peeking his head into the dimly lit room, smiling when he saw his boyfriend sitting on the bed. He sat down beside him.

“Hello, love. How are you feeling?”

Roger shrugged, leaning against him. “I dunno. Sad, I guess. How are you?”

Brian gave him a sympathetic smile and wrapped his arm around his back lovingly. “Did you take your meds today?”

Out of everyone, Roger was most surprised that Brian hadn’t ever noticed. Maybe the guitarist wanted to believe that Roger was getting better with his new routine. He was so afraid of losing the drummer that maybe he just lived in denial.

Roger didn’t want to upset him, or make him angry, so he just nodded in reply to Brian’s question.

“Good,” there was a beat of silence before he heard him clear his throat and then turn to him. “I’ve been… pretty lax towards you these past few weeks because I wanted you to get into a routine and relax, get your bearings back again, yeah? I would still like for you to see my friend Ollie though.”

Roger felt himself tense. He cast his eyes downward at his hands. “Umm… I think it’s too late to have him… inspect me, Brian.”

“Oh, I know… I regret not getting him over sooner for that. He can still do a couple tests, though… I’m sure, just to make sure you’re healthy, and it’s not just that. I want you to talk to him, Rog. I know you’ve been getting better at talking to all of us but… I know there’s also some things you aren’t telling us.”

Roger glanced up and started shaking his head to deny it, even if the other man was right. “Brian, I –ʺ

But he held up a hand to gently stop him, shaking his head. “I’m not angry, Roger. I understand… I get it that you can’t or don’t want to tell me every single thing on your mind, but… I think you should tell _someone_ , so it doesn’t fester inside of you.”

Roger shifted his weight on the bed. “But then he’ll tell you.”

Brian chewed on his lip in thought before he looked at Roger again. “I won’t have him tell me, unless he believes you might be in danger again. How does that sound?”

To be honest, Roger still didn’t like that idea because since he stopped taking his meds but even during, putting himself in danger again was just about all he thought about. He thought about putting the razor to his skin again… not to try to kill himself again, but just to feel something, _anything._ Something real. Maybe he could back those types of thoughts, though, and just talk about the other ones that wouldn’t get him into trouble.

“Y-Yeah, all right, I guess. When are you going to have him come?”

Brian half smirked to himself. “Tomorrow. I’ll call him today and ask if he can make it.”

As awful as Roger was feeling, he couldn’t help but also crack a smirk. Brian had been saying ‘tomorrow’ as long as he could remember. He wondered if it would ever actually happen.

“What do you want to do today?” Roger asked, hoping nothing would involve him.

The guitarist started to look anxious and he shifted his weight on the bed again. “I was thinking maybe we could all practice a bit. We haven’t done any gigs in a while and –ʺ

“And we’re low on money,” Roger finished for him, having expected it. He sighed and looked down at the scars on his forearms. Everything had been postponed because of him, _as fucking usual._

_Everything was his fault._

He felt guilt start to fill him up. They hadn’t done any gigs because of _him_ , because they were all waiting for Roger to get better. He needed to fix this since he was the reason they were broke again. Roger needed to do Something.

“Yeah, sure,” Roger nodded. “We probably should practice, get back into it again… play some shows. Anything I can do, just… let me know, yeah?”

Brian smiled and nodded before he wrapped his arms around Roger and kissed his cheek. Even though the drummer didn’t mind the kiss, the feeling of being constrained made him feel claustrophobic and as casually as he could, he shook Brian off and moved away from it. Brian’s smile faltered, but it wasn’t the first time he saw the blonde do this, so he moved away a little bit when he saw Roger’s discomfort.

“S-Sorry,” Roger apologized feebly, feeling the guilt again.

Brian shook his head. “No, it’s… it’s okay. I understand, Roger. You’re still healing. This is something that will take a bit to move on from, and I’m willing to wait until the end of time for you.”

His words sent warm waves inside of Roger, and it made him smile sheepishly. “Thanks, Bri.”

“Sure thing,” he stood up now. “Come on, love. Let’s go practice.” He held his hand out to Roger and pulled the other man up onto his feet when he took it.

The two men walked out where Freddie and John were setting up instruments, seemingly having planned to practice with or without Roger. Roger finished setting up his drum set and then sat down, twirling the drumsticks to get a good feel for them again, taking a deep breath before letting it out again.

“Now, Roger,” Freddie began, grabbing the mic from the stand and turning around to look at the drummer with gentle eyes. “There’s no pressure. It’s perfectly understandable if we’re a bit off today. We haven’t practiced for quite some time now but that’s why we’re getting back into the swing of things again! It might take us an hour or two to get back in sync with each other so try and not get too frustrated, darling. All right?”

Roger nodded, wetting his lips and suddenly decided he was craving a cigarette. Maybe that was just habitual though; every time they had practiced or played a show in the past, he usually smoked before, during and after. He tried to push it aside, figuring it was healthier for him if he didn’t smoke as much as he used to.

Brian glanced over at John who had just finished adjusting his bass against his body. “Are we all ready?”

“Yep,” John nodded. Brian glanced around at everyone as they all nodded as well and then smiled back at Roger.

“What song are we doing again, Freddie?” The guitarist asked, looking over at the singer.

Freddie thought for a moment and then playfully narrowed his eyes. “Well considering we only have about eight songs written down, I figured we’d just do all of them. We have the time, darling.”

“Oh, I know but… I’m just afraid it might be too much for Roger too soon. I mean, we haven’t practiced in months –ʺ

“Which is why we should just play them all,” Roger interrupted him, feeling exasperated with Brian’s need to look out for him and feeling like he knew what was best for Roger. “Let’s just do this.”

“Roger, you don’t need to exhaust yourself playing for half the day,” the guitarist replied, searching his boyfriend’s face. “The others understand.” His eyes looked around at the other men, almost daring John or Freddie to defy him, but neither man did.

Roger knew that Brian loved him and had his best interests at heart, but it was getting annoying. He took a deep breath and looked at him pointedly. “Really, Bri. It’s fine. I’m fine, let’s just practice, all right?”

Brian sighed but he nodded resignedly. “Which song are we starting off with, Fred?”

“Oh, right,” Freddie smiled softly. “Let’s start with Liar. It’ll help us get back into the feel of things.”

  
**………. .. ……………..**

**  
** The men practiced until about five in the evening and by the time they had finished, they could all agree that getting back in sync with each other was more difficult than any of them thought it would be.

At any given point in their songs, one of them would always be off their rhythm by half a second, and although drunk listeners would hardly notice it at all, it irked all of them. Roger had grown more frustrated than any of them because he knew it was his fault in the first place they were like this.

“All right, gentlemen, let’s call it for tonight. I think we could all use a break,” Brian decided. No one argued as they started to shove their instruments back into the small room they kept it in.

Roger slammed his drumsticks down harder than he meant to as he took apart his drum kit and put it away. He moved into the kitchen and tried taking several deep breaths to calm himself down. He found since stopped his meds, his decrease in sleep and food had made him more agitated.

He heard footsteps behind him and was about to tell Brian off for being so protected when he turned around and saw John looking at him with a surprising amount of concern in his eyes.

“Hey… I just… wanted to check in with you, make sure you’re okay.”

Roger felt slightly suspicious; this was the most he had heard John say to him in the past few weeks. For the most part, John had kept his distance from him, only saying one or two words to him since their day at the hospital.

The blonde searched the younger man’s face and nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay, Deaks. Thanks, though.”

John nodded but he didn’t make a move to go anywhere. He looked contemplative and nervous at the same time. Roger decided to make the first move.

“Are… _you_ all right?”

This seemed to snap John out of his thoughts and he nodded but his eyes gave him away that wasn’t. He moved a little closer towards the drummer and when he looked at Roger again, his eyes were warm and soft.

“I-I’m sorry about everything I said to you, Roger… at the hospital. I know there’s no excuse for what I said. _God_ it was so shitty. I was just so scared. I came into the bathroom that night and saw your wrists opened like that and I just… panicked.”

Roger bit his lip. He wanted to hear John’s explanation of things but another part of him just wanted to forgive him and move on. “John, it’s okay… really.”

“No, Rog,” he shook his head. “It’s not okay. How I treated you was not okay. It just felt easier to be angry at you than to be a sobbing mess. I’m so sorry for yelling at you like I did and calling you selfish. I’m a fucking asshole.”

Roger shook his head. “John, you’re not a fucking asshole. I’ve met my fair share of those, mate, and I promise you aren’t one. I forgive you, really.”

The bassist looked like he was starting to tear up and Roger felt a lump in his throat. John nodded in acknowledgement and looked at him.

“C-Can I… I mean, is it okay if I…?” He trailed off but got a little closer but gave Roger time to push him away if it turned out they weren’t on the same page.

John’s politeness warmed the drummer’s heart now and he smirked before he gently pulled John in closer before kissing him. A smile appeared on the younger man’s face as they kissed and Roger wrapped his arms around him, breathing him in.

He forgot how much he had missed this.

He loved Brian but being in John’s arms felt different from being in the guitarist’s arms. It wasn’t so much a matter of it being better, but just… _different._

Roger closed his eyes and kept him close to his body, relaxing as John hugged him back.

“Oh this is wonderful!” An excited voice broke the moment. “I’m so glad you two have finally gotten back together!”

John blushed a little and glanced over at Freddie as he broke away from Roger slightly. The drummer rolled his eyes at Freddie but couldn’t help but smile at his comment. He looked over at Brian who had just finished putting away his guitar and smiled softly at Roger, no sign of resentment or anger in his eyes.

At least things seemed to be getting a little better now. The whole time he had been at odds with John, he had felt a tight knot in his stomach as he had thought about all the words John had said to him at the hospital. Having heard him apologize had made the knot unwind itself and he felt like he could relax a bit again.

“What shall we do to celebrate?”

All the men looked at Freddie hesitantly.

“I think we should all stay here at the flat, make some tea and watch some telly,” Brian suggested, shrugging.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Freddie scoffed playfully. “That’s all you ever want to do! Let’s go out, all of us! Let’s go dancing!”

“Freddie, we barely have any money,” Brian reminded him almost disapprovingly. “If you want to drink and dance, then we should probably do those things here, for free.”

John nodded in agreement, looking at Freddie who started to pout.

“Oh you all aren’t any fun at all!”

“It’s a fine line between having fun and spending money irresponsibility. Once we do another show and pay next month’s rent, then we can have proper fun. For now, though, let’s just… have fun here.”

Freddie let out a loud, dramatic sigh but skipped into the kitchen and started to pull out bottles of vodka and whiskey and set them on the counter before he poured drinks for everyone and handed two to Roger and John respectively, before heading into the living room and handed one to Brian, who reluctantly took it.

“All right, we got our drinks, now for our music!” Freddie walked over to the radio and put on a rock station. It wasn’t exactly the singer’s usual music that he enjoyed when he would go to clubs but he somehow was able to dance to it still.

All the men sipped their drinks and laughed, watching Freddie dance enthusiastically. As Roger drank, he soon got into the dancing mood as well, and started to sway with John who giggled. Brian grinned and chuckled, watching Roger do this, all the men clearly enjoying themselves and each other.

They drank a bit more and it was then when Freddie challenged them to a game of Scrabble. The men sat and lay on the floor in a circle but thanks to more drinks, one game turned into four rematch games until they were all a decent amount of drunk by 11pm.

“’Scuse me, Rog, but I don’t think you can legally use ‘wanker’ as a word,” Brian remarked.

Roger rubbed his eyes tiredly, partially unsurprised that alcohol was the only thing that made him feel sleepy enough to fall asleep nowadays, because why wouldn’t it?

“What are you on about, Bri? You can totally use it in Scrabble! It’s an action verb!”

John was chuckling into his fourth glass of whiskey.

Freddie’s eyes widened now and he shook his head. “I’m sorry, darling but Brian has a point. You’re thinking of ‘wanking,’ but you placed ‘wanker,’ which isn’t the same thing!”

“Fine,” Roger decided before he put down three letters after ‘R.’ “There.”

Everyone burst out into fits of uncontrollably laughter, except for Brian who was quietly chuckling and rubbing his temples.

“‘Wankering?’ What on earth is that?!” Freddie exclaimed.

Roger was grinning, knowing full well that it was a long stretch to make a word. “It’s all I have.”

Brian was still chuckling as he looked at everyone’s scores and then subtracted the letters everyone still had before circling one. “Well, I’m sorry, Rog, but even drunk, Freddie still wins, we all lose, and I’m calling it for the night.”

Everyone seemed satisfied with that judgement and stood up, grabbing their glasses and dumping out their remaining drinks into the sink before they all clumsily helped put the pieces away and staggered towards Brian’s bedroom, all of them agreeing that it was best because it was the closest.

They all began to get undressed down to just their underwear for absolute comfort and crawled into the bed, John in the middle between Freddie and Roger, and Brian on the end on Roger’s other side. All the men lay close as to not fall off the bed, but as exhaustion and tiredness set in, they all started to entangle their limbs for maximum relaxation and soon fell asleep.


	23. little talks

**.   .    .**

  
Roger woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Today was the day when he would have to talk to Brian’s friend Ollie about what happened. He shut his eyes tightly, not wanting to think about _that_ until he had to.

He looked over and saw John sleeping peacefully on his one side before glancing over and seeing Brian slowly waking up, rubbing his eyes. He searched the older man’s face with his apprehensive eyes. He must have seen Roger’s worry because he sat up and gently tugged on Roger’s hand.

“Come on,” he whispered softly, as to not wake the others. “Let’s go have some coffee, love.”

Roger nodded, knowing he would need caffeine to take on the day. He let Brian tug him up and followed him into the kitchen before he leaned against the counter. He was silent for several minutes, trying to ignore his anxiety but also not feeling awake yet.

Once the coffee was done, Brian made a coffee and passed it over to the drummer. He waited until Roger had taken a drink before he started to talk to him.

“Are you feeling nervous about Ollie coming over?” He asked softly.

Roger knew it was useless to lie to him. He nodded before taking another sip. “A little.”

Brian took a sip of coffee as well. “Well try and not be, love. It’ll be all right. I told him that he doesn’t have to tell me everything he says to you. He won’t stay too long.”

“Is he going to… check me out?” Roger asked awkwardly, unsure how to word it.

Brian rubbed his chin. “I don’t think so, but even if he does, remember he’s a professional, and he isn’t going to judge you or anything. He knows about us. He’s not going to laugh at you. He’s not going to take advantage of you. He’s one of my best friends and I trust him. He’s a good man.”

Roger let out a slow breath, feeling a little better hearing him talk about Ollie like this. He couldn’t help but feel a bit anxious about meeting a stranger, though. He finished his coffee before he grabbed his cigarettes off the counter and lit it.

Brian grabbed it out of the drummer’s mouth and put it out in the ashtray though, looking at him pointedly. “You should take your medication. I’ll make some breakfast for you.”

The other man sighed and shook his head. “Just breakfast. Skip the medication.”

“Rog…”

“No! I don’t like how it makes me feel,” Roger confessed. “I hate feeling depressed, but I’d rather feel that than nothing else.”

Brian searched his face. “What do you mean? How is it making you feel, Rog?”

He shrugged, feeling silly now. He essentially wasn’t taking his meds because of a dumb feeling that pills were making him feel. “Numb… it makes me numb, and… I-I couldn’t keep feeling that. I’m sorry, Bri, but it was just too much for me. I was going crazy.”

Brian gave a somewhat disappointed sigh before he cracked a few eggs in a pan before he started to make an omelet. “Well maybe Ollie can prescribe you something else, something better. It seemed like the other meds were making you better, though. I wish you would take them again,”

Roger felt like he was the biggest disappointment in the world, the worst boyfriend. He was quiet as he watched Brian cook, feeling a new tension and distance appearing between them. Neither man said anything until the guitarist stood across from him as he set the plate of eggs in front of Roger.

“Why didn’t you tell me they were making you feel that way sooner, Rog? We could’ve done something about it.” Brian’s tone wasn’t as chastising as it was concerned, and the drummer could hear the difference, which relaxed him a little.

He shrugged, poking at the eggs in front of him with his fork. “I didn’t want to be burden. So much… shit has happened and I’m well aware I’m basically the cause of it. I know I’m thick most of the time, but at least that part hasn’t gone over my head.”

“Hey,” Brian chided softly before he took Roger’s hands from across the counter, holding them in his own as he looked at the other man. “You’re not thick most of the time. You’re more aware than you give yourself credit for. You’re smart, Roger… you are. Everything that has happened to you has been a combination of fucking shitty people, mental illness, and your inability to control your anger, but none of it has made me love you any less, yeah? I know what I signed up for when I broke up with Chrissy and started going out with you, and I don’t regret anything.”

Roger’s chest warmed now with the guitarist’s kind words and he smiled weakly before he ate a bit of egg. “Thanks, Bri. I love you too.”

“Good,” he smirked before he kissed both of Roger’s hands and then started to shovel eggs onto his own plate before sitting down across from him.

“What time is he coming?”

“He said around noon. I figured I would let you two have my room for some privacy. It’ll go by quickly. The only thing I ask of you is that whatever he asks you, that you answer honestly, okay? He’s here to help you. Unlike doctors and police nowadays, he actually gives a shit about people like… us,” Brian searched Roger’s eyes to make sure he understood what he meant and gave a small smile when the other man nodded.

 “Good morning, darlings!”

“Morning, Fred,” Roger acknowledged, glancing over as the singer entered the open living room in just his pajama bottoms.

“Sleep well?” Brian asked, dishing up a plate of omelet for him.

Freddie sat down and gave a smile at both men before nodding. “Better than I have for a while, actually, thank you for asking. How did you two sleep?”

Brian looked at Roger who was now too busy eating his eggs to talk. “Well, thank you, Freddie. John still asleep, I take it?”

The singer grinned before he ate a mouthful and swallowed before answered. “He’s a late sleeper, that one. I remember when I used to have that much energy, the poor, young dear.”

Brian chuckled. “He’s only a few years younger than you, Fred, and you still have that energy. You just channel it all into music and dancing.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, darling,” he smirked.

Brian put his hands up in surrender. “Of course not. I wasn’t saying there was, mate. If anyone in this band is going to complain of being old and out of energy, it’s going to be me. I’m older than all of you.”

“Only by one or two years, darling. You still seem to be full of energy.”

The guitarist shrugged, smiling. “It helps to have caffeine close at hand.”

Roger gave a small smile, but in truth had only heard about half of their conversation. His mind had spaced a little, and he quickly had lost track of what they were talking about without any care about picking it up again. He watched the clock, the little hand on the ten, the big hand on the six. He still had about an hour and a half before Ollie was to arrive.

He finished his eggs and stood up. “I’m going to go shower.”

“Oh, all right, Rog. Can you hang on one minute so I can clean up in here real quick?”

Freddie gave a dismissive wave. “Go on, dear. I’ll clean up.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, darling. No worries. Go on, now. I’ll clean it all up,” the singer volunteered with ease.

Brian gave him a grateful smile before he followed Roger into the bathroom and closed the door as the drummer started to get undressed.

Roger sighed. “You don’t have to keep me on this suicide watch, you know. I’m not going to slit my wrists open again. I just want to shower.”

To his slight surprise, Brian pulled off his shirt and started to take his own pajama bottoms down, along with his underwear before stepping out of both and glancing at Roger. “What if I want to take a shower with my boyfriend, though? Can I do that at least?”

Roger smirked before he nodded. “I suppose so.” His eyes looked over the other man’s body and he smiled to himself, feeling lucky to be with this handsome man. He turned the shower on and got inside before making room for Brian, who closed the shower curtain once he was in as well.

The drummer let Brian have the water first and simply watched him until it was his turn. When he looked up as he wet himself down, he saw curiosity and concern mixed in Brian’s eyes.

“What?”

“Is this… all right, Roger? I’m such an idiot, I didn’t even think to ask if it was okay if I joined you in the first place. I should’ve asked you first.”

It took Roger a minute to catch on to what Brian was talking about, but when he did, it made more sense why he was being so cautious.

_Oh yeah, his rape._

The pain from having been with James Williams had been so brief, that he had started to question if it even ever happened at all.

_Had he just made it up?_

_No._

It had happened. He remembered waking up to the pounding and thrusting inside of him, and the pain and anger he had felt. And James slapping him, telling him that he had given him too much.

_Too much Rohypnol._

It was all coming back now. He didn’t make it up.

_Fuck._

He could smell stale beer and the musty room, and the smell of sex. Roger could feel the pain returning in his lower extremities now but it felt like it was vibrating, like it wasn’t even real.

“Breathe, Roger! Breathe…”

He hadn’t noticed that he had stopped in the first place, or maybe he was just breathing too fast. He didn’t know, his head was spinning and there was a terrible pain in his chest. Then he realized something else.

He was crying.

Roger tried to blink back the tears now and looked around. He was no longer standing in the shower, but he was sitting on the floor of the bathroom. Had he fallen? What was happening?

“Hey, hey, Roger… look at me, okay? Breathe, love… just breathe. In and out…”

The drummer blinked and felt tears in his eyes and on his face. He looked around and then looked back at Brian who put his hands on his face before he demonstrated how to breathe. Roger breathed in through his nose before holding it for several seconds and then exhaled through his mouth.

“That’s it, love. Good… good, keep breathing.”

As he breathed, he felt his dizziness subsiding and after about twenty minutes or so, he was feeling more like himself and it was now when he realized he was naked but Brian had placed a towel over his lower half to give him some dignity during his attack.

“W-What… what happened?”

Brian ran his fingers through the drummer’s wet hair before he grabbed another towel and started to towel dry it a little so it was no longer dripping. “You were quiet for quite a long time, but you had washed up and then you suddenly sat on the shower floor. I was asking you if you were all right but you were crying, so I helped you out and sat you on the bathroom floor here. You don’t remember any of that…?”

Roger shook his head and felt the feeling coming back to his fingers again. He slowly stood up with Brian’s help and collected his bearings before drying his body off and then headed to their room to get changed.

He was quietly getting dressed, trying to remember, when he heard Brian’s voice again as the guitarist closed the door and leaned against it, watching him.

“I’m sorry, Roger… I-I shouldn’t have gotten in there with you. It was too much for you too soon. I wasn’t thinking.”

Roger looked up now and shook his head. “No, Bri. It isn’t… your fault. I thought I could handle it. It hadn’t really bothered me since it happened but… maybe I’ve been just… holding it in. I didn’t think showering together would do that to me.”

Brian moved closer and searched the younger man’s face. “Maybe Ollie will have more answers than I can give you.”

Roger nodded before he finished getting dressed. “Yeah, maybe. Answers would be nice.”

“Come on, love. Let’s go back out there and wait for him.”

The drummer nodded obediently, starting to feel anxiety again. The men hung out and talked until there was a knock on the flat door. Brian opened it to see Ollie. The two men smiled at each other before hugging then they turned to look at Roger.

“Ollie, this is dear friend, and the love of my life, Roger. He’s the one who seeks your help. The others, of course, are Freddie and John, though. They’re also good friends.”

The man who was Brian’s height and stature, smiled politely at all of them and nodded before waving. “It’s lovely to meet you all.”

He moved over to Roger and held out his hand. Roger gently met it with his own, shaking it in greeting and nodding. This seemed enough for Ollie before he glanced over at Brian.

“Is there somewhere Roger and I can talk alone?”

“Yes,” Brian nodded and then started to lead them to his room. “Make yourself at home, mate. We’ll be in the living room if you need us.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Brian.”

“Thank _you_.”

 

**….. …. ………… …**

**  
**It had been nearly twenty minutes since the two men sat across from each other in chairs in Brian’s room, but Ollie didn’t look impatient. He held a pad of paper on his lap as he looked at Roger before clearing his throat.

“Where would you like to start, Roger?” His voice was patient, kind.

Roger shrugged, unsure even where to begin. He was quite for a long time before he decided to begin with what had just happened most recently. “Umm… before you came here, I… I sort of… blacked out in the shower.”

Ollie leaned a bit forward, interest in his eyes as he wrote down something. “Do you black out often?”

The drummer thought for a moment. “Depends, what is ‘often’?”

“Let’s say… every day.”

Roger shook his head. “No, not every day. It’s more like… maybe once a week, maybe two weeks? If I had to guess. I’m not sure, I haven’t really been keeping track. The last time I blacked out, it was a couple weeks ago, I think.”

Ollie’s eyes became sympathetic and maybe even a little sad. “Yes, that’s right. Brian did tell me about that time. What do you remember about that night, if you feel comfortable talking about it?”

Roger took a deep breath, starting to feel a bit tense. “I actually almost… it sounds so stupid, but I think I almost forgot it even happened until my shower earlier. When I was… gone, it all started to rush at me, you know? I remembered smells and feelings and… things I didn’t want to even remember.”

“Do you want to talk about that night, Roger? Understand it’s perfectly all right if you don’t… it’s just our first session.”

Roger bit his lip. This man was a total stranger. He hadn’t ever met him until today. They didn’t know anything about each other. Telling details about a personal sexual experience seemed pretty heavy for a first session, but he had promised Brian he would talk to him about these types of issues.

“I drank a lot that night but, not my normal amount, at the pub. I blacked out, and… when I came to again, I was in this dark room and I was on my hands and knees, and… there was someone else b-behind me,” Roger recalled, looking down at his hands.

“Do you know who the man that attacked you was, Roger? Did you know him?”

The drummer swallowed hard and took a shaky breath before he shook his head. “He… he came by here, before the r-rape… talking like I knew who he was. His name is… James Williams. I hadn’t met him before that day but I sure as hell can’t forget him now, no matter how hard I try.”

Ollie was writing again but then glanced back up at Roger.

“That must have been… unimaginably difficult for you. I’m so sorry, truly.”

Roger searched the other man’s face and saw genuine empathy. He gave a weak smile and nodded appreciatively. “Thanks, that means a lot. How long have you been doing this kind of thing for?”

Ollie smiled back. “A few years. I’ve only been able to prescribe medication for the last month or so, however. I make regular house calls to several good friends of friends. Does it bother you that I haven’t been doing this that long?”

The drummer shook his head, surprised by his own answer. “No, not really. I… I love Brian and I trust his judgement with people. He says you two have been friends for a few years now so… that helps. I guess you’re not a complete stranger after all.”

“I suppose not. Do you mind if we go back to what happened? We don’t have to talk about the night of again, unless you want to.”

Roger was grateful to be given an out. He felt like he had lived it twice already, once when it happened and again in the shower. He didn’t want to relive it a third time. “What do you want to ask me?”

Ollie seemed to think, in the end deciding to stick to the safer questions. “Brian hasn’t told me a lot about what happened to you, or the events following afterward. Did you tell anyone about your rape?”

“I told Brian… and the others know about it as well. I went to hospital but they didn’t really seem to care.”

“Unfortunately, that seems to be how it is nowadays. Forgive me for saying this but professionals in the hospital as well as the police are fucking pricks when it comes to male on male rape. Did you report your attacker?”

Roger thought back and shrugged. “I can’t… I can’t remember. I’m pretty sure Brian tried to, but they just shrugged him off.”

Ollie nodded, looking unsurprised, frustration touching his eyes now. “I’m so sorry. Jesus… what a time to be alive right now, yeah? Fucking ridiculous.”

Roger was enjoying Ollie’s profanity. He had thought that a friend of Brian’s would be like him, and less like the drummer. He didn’t mind this, of course. In fact, he was feeling a lot more relaxed around him. So much so, that as they talked some more, he didn’t realize how much time had actually passed.

“I promised Brian I’d only bother you for a couple hours. Is there anything else you’d like to ask me or talk about before we call it here for today, Roger?”

The drummer bit his lip. “He said that you might want to… check me out? For injuries? I-It’s been a couple weeks, though. Everything’s probably gone by now,” he added quickly.

Ollie looked over at Roger. “Are you still in pain or anything?”

“Only when I have those moments when I’m… _there_. When I can smell everything and I get upset and I… ‘wake up’ crying and having panic attacks, but it goes away. I mean, I’m not in pain right now or anything.”

Ollie nodded and searched his face before he took out a small box from the bag that he had with him. “All right, well I would like to take some blood from you, so we can have it tested to see if you have any diseases. It wouldn’t be too late for those.”

Roger had an idea what kind of diseases Ollie was going to test for, since he had studied biology and anatomy and such. Similar diseases that could be found between heterosexual relationships as well. He nodded and rolled up his sleeve before feeling a needle going into his arm.

The pain was quick and before he knew it, the other man had what he needed. He rolled his sleeve back over the small plaster Ollie had placed on him and stood up.

“Thank you, Roger, for talking to me today,” he smiled. “I understand there might be more sessions when you don’t wish to talk, and that’s all right as well, but I hope that you don’t mind we see each other some more. I think it could help you.”

Roger nodded in agreement before he held out his hand. “Thanks, mate. Come around anytime.”

Ollie shook his hand, smiled and then excused himself from the flat after walking out. A few minutes later, Brian timidly walked into the room where Roger was collecting himself.

The guitarist seemed afraid to touch him so he kept his distance, his eyes soft. “Everything go okay?”

Roger nodded and smiled weakly, feeling embarrassed about earlier. “Yeah, it went all right. We talked. He took some blood to run some tests, and said he’ll be coming back.”

The other man smiled and took a step forward before he stopped himself, his smile faltering. “How are you feeling, love? Any better from earlier?”

Roger could see the other man’s need to touch him and he felt guilt imploding inside of him again. He swallowed hard and moved closer to him. He reached out to him with his hand and held Brian’s own, figuring that might be safe enough for him.

It seemed to be enough for the guitarist and he gently squeezed his hand lovingly.

“I’m feeling better. Do… do you want me to tell you what I talked about with him…?” Roger chewed on his bottom lip.

“Only if you want to, Roger. You don’t have to. Whatever you think will help you the most is what I want. I only want you to feel comfortable.”

Roger squeezed his hand back and he nodded, relaxing. “Umm… I just told him about the night at the pub, when… when _it_ happened, and about us going to the hospital. And about my episode earlier in the shower.”

“Did he say anything to you about any of it?”

Roger shrugged. “He was writing things down and he didn’t seem to like the fact the doctors and police ignored us when we tried to report the rape. He was pretty understanding about everything.”

“That’s great, Roger. I’m so glad you like him. So… it’s only two. Would you like some tea?”

The drummer smiled and nodded, gently thumbing his boyfriend’s hand. “Tea sounds great.” As Brian led him out of the bedroom, Roger continued. “We should practice again, before our next gig. When is that again, Bri?”

“I believe on Friday. Don’t worry, Rog. We have a several days to practice. We’ll be okay.”

The drummer couldn’t help but believe him as he sat down and watched as Brian put the kettle on for them. Freddie and John were busy watching telly with their limbs draped over each other to care what Roger ad Brian were doing anyway.

“I love you, Roger. You know that, don’t you? I would never… ever hurt you, or make you do anything you didn’t want to,” Brian suddenly whispered to him.

The admission surprised the younger man, making him look over at him. “I know, Brian. I know you wouldn’t,” then a thought crossed his mind. “Hang on, did you think I went into that panic attack earlier because of you?”

Brian cast his eyes downward, perhaps out of shame. “Of course you did, Roger. Of course that was my fault, and it’s okay if you say it. I know I made a mistake.”

Roger searched his face, sighing before he shook his head. “I don’t blame you for that. I don’t know why that happened but it wasn’t your fault. I know you wouldn’t hurt me. I love you, Brian. Nothing that happens to me will change that.”

The other man was looking sheepish now but was smiling softly. “Can I… can I hug you?”

Roger smirked and chuckled. “Get over here.”


	24. angry

**.    .    .**

  
  
The next few days went somewhat better for the drummer. He found himself feeling lighter. He found himself eating regularly as well as sleeping. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his conversation with Ollie, or if it was a combination of Ollie and being around the guys, but he even found himself laughing occasionally.

That didn’t go without saying that he didn’t also still panic attacks once in a while, because he did. Every time a familiar smell connected to his memories, he found himself crying in a ball on the floor of the bathroom at home, or outside between two buildings in the city feeling his lungs collapsing.

Even just _thinking_ he saw James somewhere would send him spiraling. Roger felt like a ticking time bomb.

Nevertheless, he hid his breakdowns from all three men rather expertly and continued to practice songs with them at home to get ready for the show in a few days. They practiced for hours and the closer it got to Friday, the more prepared and confident he felt about it.

It was the morning before the show, and he was feeling a little anxious but otherwise okay as he sat in the kitchen and drank his coffee while quietly listening to the radio as it played rock music.

He heard footsteps from behind him and knew it had to be Brian since it was too early for Freddie or John to be awake yet.

“Morning, love,” the guitarist’s soft, sleepy voice confirmed before he walked into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee.

“G’morning.”

“Sleep well?” Brian glanced over at the other man as he put cream and sugar in his coffee and sat down next to him at the table.

“Yeah,” Roger gave a nod, not entirely lying. “You?”

“I slept all right.”

The two men shared a comfortable silence for the next several minutes, neither one awake yet. They sipped their coffee and it was now when Roger took this moment to take out a cigarette and light it. He inhaled the smoke into his lungs, welcoming it longingly.

To his surprise, Brian didn’t take it and put it out. Instead, he looked at Roger with worry in his eyes.

“Bad morning for you?”

The drummer shrugged, unsure what he was really feeling. He still wasn’t taking the medication which he figured was half his problem. Yeah, he was getting six hours of sleep a night, but he was also having panic attacks. He was doing _better_ but he wasn’t a hundred percent yet.

“Talk to me, Roger,” the older man’s gentle voice pleaded. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The drummer sighed and shook his head, feeling frustrated with himself before he threw his hands up. “I don’t know. Just… same shit as always, Brian. It’s still there. I’m constantly living it. What if _he’s_ there tomorrow night, at the show?”

Brian searched Roger’s face and reached out to touch his hand lovingly, embracing it in his own. “He’s not going to hurt you again. None of us will let him. He’s not even going to come within ten feet of you, Rog.”

The drummer knew that Brian couldn’t realistically promise that, especially not when he didn’t even know what James looked like. He swallowed hard and inhaled again, closing his eyes and resting his hand against his forehead, feeling panic edging into his chest again.

Brian gently grabbed his other hand that was holding his forehead, so he was forced to look at him. “It’s going to be okay, Roger, I promise. We’re going to be right there with you, at any given moment. Even if three of us leave, one of us will still be there with you tomorrow night. We’re just going to get there early, set up, have a couple drinks, play, and hang out for maybe half an hour tops afterwards, okay?”

He wasn’t sure how the other man did it but somehow, Roger always found himself feeling comfort and finding solace in his words. They always sounded so reassuring and calmed him down.

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, finishing his cigarette off before he put it out in the ashtray. “All right. That works.”

“Good,” Brian smiled warmly. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Bri.”

“Are you hungry? I can make you some toast if you want?” Brian offered, standing up and grabbing his empty coffee mug.

Roger gave a shake of his head. “No, thanks. Not hungry.” So he had his good days and bad days.

Brian gave a soft sigh but decided not to press him. He felt like he was more often pressing Roger to eat than not. It grew tiring. He loved the younger man, but if he really didn’t want to eat anything, then he simply wouldn’t.

Roger watched as Brian made breakfast for himself and instead opted to refill his coffee mug before he sat back down again just as Freddie and John both came out, rubbing their eyes and yawning.

He smiled to himself when he felt John playfully ruffle his hair up before getting coffee and sitting down as well. Roger and him shared a smile and he felt himself relax again.

“What shall we do today, darlings?” Freddie asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Practice?” Brian suggested, glancing over.

The singer narrowed his eyes in thought. “Well we could practice a little bit but I don’t think it’d do us much good…”

Roger tensed but it was John who spoke next.

“Why’s that, Freddie?”

“Because we’re already perfect, darlings. We’ve got this down and we’re back in the swing of things! Let’s just use this day to relax, shall we?”

Roger relaxed. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Freddie had said ‘because of Roger.’ Not because Freddie was a dickhead but because Roger was having meltdowns at every turn even though he had done his best to make sure they hadn’t seen any of them.

“That sounds good to me,” Brian agreed, grabbing his food before sitting down with the others at the table to eat.

“What about you, John? Are you quite all right if we don’t practice today?” Freddie asked gently.

The bassist gave him a small smile and nodded, sipping his coffee. “Of course, Fred. We can relax today. I don’t mind.”

“Excellent!” Freddie clasped his hands together up. “Then it’s settled. Does anyone want to do anything else today?”

“We need to do some grocery shopping,” the guitarist replied. “We’re out of eggs and milk, but that’ll literally be the last of our money, then.”

Roger and John both cringed at the thought of them being broke for a good twenty-four hours but it didn’t seem to faze Freddie who simply shrugged and smiled.

“Well it’s a good thing that we’ll be getting paid after our show tomorrow, isn’t it, dear?”  Brian nodded in reply and ate his breakfast quietly.

Roger knew when Brian was this quiet about something, it was because he was feeling uneasy. Being poor was definitely something to be anxious about, but the blonde didn’t know how he remained so calm about it. Roger could already feel panic rising up. He coughed as he stood up.

“Be right back.”

The other men just nodded and Freddie reached over to the radio to turn up a Led Zeppelin song that had just started to play. Roger hurried to the bathroom, closing the door before he gasped and slid down the wall, swallowing the lump in his throat.

_Breathe. In and out._

He could hear Brian’s voice inside his head and he obeyed, starting to inhale through his nose, hold it and then exhale again. He did this a few times and soon he felt his breathing start to come back, the numbness in his fingers not having the chance to take hold as he calmed down and got his oxygen back.

_In and out._

_Breathe._

_Keep breathing._

_Don’t stop breathing._

Roger was able to focus again soon enough and he put his legs out, rubbing his face of tears with his hands as he collected himself again and then stood up. He splashed cold water on his face and took another shaky breath.

_They would be okay. They had a gig tomorrow night._

_They would get paid again._

_They wouldn’t be poor for long. Everything would be all right. Everything would be all right._

Roger was starting to feel exhausted from his minor panic attack and he had to fight the urge to climb back into bed. Instead, he decided to take this opportunity to shower, unsupervised, at least for a little while.

He had gotten undressed and slipped into the shower, enjoying the warm water on his tensed muscles for a good three minutes before he heard someone slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

“If I had known you wanted to shower, Rog, I would’ve just followed you in,” Brian remarked, sitting down on the closed toilet seat.

“Exactly,” Roger sighed heavily. “I’d like a few minutes of privacy, but apparently that’s too much to ask of anyone around here. I feel like I have to be babysat every time I want to shower. I miss when I could shower alone.”

“I know you do,” Brian spoke sympathetically. “We’re not babysitting you, though. We’re just making sure that you don’t hurt yourself again. We’re just making sure you’re safe.”

“Which is pretty much what babysitters are for,” Roger reasoned as he washed his hair. “I’d invite you to join me but…” he trailed off, remembering what had happened a few days ago, feeling disappointment fill him up.

“I understand, Roger,” the older man said gently. “Do you want to shave?”

Roger felt his face, feeling a thin layer of stubble starting to appear on his skin. “So I can do that still? In case you forget, I believe that requires a razor, Bri.”

“You can shave, Rog… you just have to do it in front of us.”

Roger couldn’t stop himself from being a smart ass in his frustration. “All of you at the same time? I think that might be a bit off putting to Freddie if he has to be there while I stand half naked in front of all of you to shave my face, Brian.”

The older man didn’t take the bait. “Oh come on. We both know that Freddie wouldn’t mind it so much. I might lose you to him.”

Ignoring Roger’s comment should have made him angry, but it had the reverse effect on him. He was still going to be a smart ass back, but not out of frustration this time. “There’s plenty of me to go around.”

This incited a chuckle out of Brian and Roger finished washing up before he shut the water off and started drying himself off with his towel before he wrapped it around his waist and got out. He walked over to the sink and looked at Brian expectantly.

He grabbed a blade and snapped it into place inside the shaving razor before handing it to Roger, along with the shaving cream. As the drummer started to shave, he noticed Brian’s eyes were wide as he watched him, as if he half expected Roger to take the razor and reopen his arms.

“I’m not about to try to off myself by doing that again, Bri. It hurt too much. If I’m going to try to kill myself again, it’s going to be by something else.”

Instead of reassuring him, Brian gave him a stern eye before he shook his head. “Not funny, Rog. Just shave.”

“Wasn’t trying to be funny. I’m serious!” Roger rinsed off the razor when he had finished and dried his face off with a towel before he walked into his bedroom to get dressed. “Going to go out with Freddie and John later?”

The question made Brian look over at him as he followed him into the bedroom. “We’re not going out.”

“We’re not practicing the day before a show? Freddie’s going to want to go out, Bri. It’s fine, though. Go out with them. They’ll probably need a sober driver anyway since we’re going to be broke after groceries.” Roger tried hard but couldn’t keep the edge out of his voice but he knew he failed when Brian closed the door all the way and gave Roger a hard look.

“What’s going on, Rog? Talk to me. Why are you so angry about the money situation?”

Roger sighed, starting to put underwear and pants on. “I’m not!”

“Try again.”

“I’m not angry. It’s just… it’s my fault that we’re like this right now! We’re poor because of me. I spent money on drinks and who knows what else when I blacked out? I spent money on cabs here, there, everywhere, and now we’re going to get kicked out because we’re broke!”

“We’re not going to get kicked out, Roger. I promise. We’re only broke for,” Brian glanced at his watch. “About 30 more hours, but then we’ll be coming into a decent amount again.  We’ll pay rent first thing, and we’ll be fine. This isn’t on you. We’ve all spent money on drinks and cab fare, Roger. No one blames you for this predicament.”

“Well maybe you should!” Roger turned on him before he could stop himself. “Because I sure as hell do! You all should hate me! I hate me! I fucked up, Brian!”

This appeared to take the guitarist back and his eyes became sad. “We don’t hate you, Roger. It’s all right, love. You didn’t fuck up anything, and you shouldn’t blame yourself for this. This kind of thing is going to happen between shows, it’s okay. We’ll all get through it together,”

Roger nodded but he couldn’t stop the self-hatred that was freely flowing within him now. It was like a dam broke, and instead of water, it was hatred for himself; now that it was flowing, there was no stopping it.

“After this show, maybe the day after, do you want me to arrange for Ollie to come back so you two can talk some more?”

Roger was about to object, but then he remembered how much better he felt talking about things with him. Maybe he could help him again. The drummer nodded and bit his lip.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. Maybe… that’s a good idea.”

Brian gave him a loving smile and nodded. “Of course. I can do that for you, love. Roger, please don’t put all this blame on yourself. We don’t blame you for anything that’s happened, okay? We love you, and no matter what happens, we’re here for you.”

Roger slipped a shirt on and looked up at his boyfriend. “What if… I still blame me? What can I do when I blame myself for… everything?”

He knew it was a heavily loaded question, but it was one that he found himself asking every other hour of every day since the attack.

Brian was quiet for a long time and by the time he did speak again, it almost startled Roger when he heard his voice again. “Honestly, Rog? I’m not sure. I can tell you that you shouldn’t blame yourself as much as I want, but I think this might be one of those things you need to talk to Ollie about. I want to help you more than anything, but I can’t. I just… hope maybe he can.”

Roger nodded and felt himself drowning in guilt. Every time he asked self-involved questions to Brian aloud, somehow he just felt more guilty for asking them. He ran his hands through his damp hair and then put socks and shoes on.

“So are you?”

The vague question plus the subject they were just talking about visibly confused Brian. “Am I what, exactly?”

“Going out later with them?”

Brian started to tidy up the bedroom, maybe for something else to do instead of just standing there awkwardly in front of the drummer. “Are you going to go, Roger?”

“No, probably not.”

Brian glanced up at him as he grabbed some dirty clothes and tossed them in the hamper. “Then I’ll stay home with you. We can do something together if you like. Play a game maybe?”

“No,” Roger insisted, giving a weak smile. “Once of us should have fun tonight. What if they’re going to drink? We can’t afford any more cabs.”

Brian shrugged. “Then they’ll just have to take the van and not drink. I’m sure they’ll understand, love.”

A realization washed over the drummer. “You’re staying home to watch me, to make sure I’m not going to… fuck, Brian! Just fucking go. You don’t have to sit me like this. It’s bollocks!”

The outburst took Brian by surprise and he gave him a firm look. “Roger! Stop this, right now. I’m not going with them, that’s that. Take a breath because you’re acting childish now.”

Roger tried taking a breath. He didn’t know where all this anger was even coming from. The only thing he knew about it was that he needed to let it out. He grabbed the closest thing to him (which happened to be his bedside table), and threw it to the ground, causing the contents to fall off and crash to the floor.

It surprised him how good that felt, so he did it again, this time with some of his uni textbooks. He picked them up and threw them as hard as he could at the wall as he let out a yell of frustration.

Brian watched him, his body tensed up and unsure what to do. Roger was breathing heavy from the exertion but he ended up just sitting down on the bed. It wasn’t long before he heard footsteps hurry to the room and sure enough, Freddie and John both hurried inside and looked around at the mess.

“What the _hell_ happened in here? Roger, darling! What did you do to your room?”

Then he heard Brian’s voice.

“It’s all right, mates. It was my fault. He’s okay. I’m just going to hang out with him for a bit but you two go do whatever you want. I think Roger and I are going to stay in tonight.”

It was clear that the guitarist was trying to calm down the dramatic situation and it seemed to be working. When Roger glanced over at the two men, they appeared hesitant to leave them along at first but then they reluctantly disappeared from the room again. Brian closed the door and started to pick up the books as he made his way back over to Roger. He set the books on a table before he sat down next to Roger.

“Roger, if you’re not in a good place mentally, maybe we should cancel the show tomorrow night. I mean… you’re going through things that none of us are able to help you with. It’s a lot for you to handle. We need to think about you,” he spoke in almost a whisper, reaching out slowly to take the drummer’s hand.

Roger looked down at their hands together before he gave his hand a squeeze. “No,” he said calmer now, “I’ll be fine by tomorrow. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Bri. I just… feel so angry lately, and I can’t stop it.”

“It’s okay to be angry, Roger. You know that, right?”

The drummer looked over at him, searching his face. “It is?” He had a guess at what Brian was going to say next, but he wanted to wait and see for himself.

“Of course, Rog. After what James did to you… Jesus, I’d expect you to be angry. Honestly, I’d be more worried if you weren’t angry. It’s okay to be that way… but promise me after the show tomorrow that you’ll talk to Ollie about all of this, yeah?”

Roger nodded and took a deep breath before he let it out again and then leaned against Brian who hesitantly put an arm around his shoulder before kissing his head. The two men stayed like that for a long time until Roger looked at him.

“I’m going to take a nap. I’m knackered.”

Brian nodded and stood up, going back to tidying up the room. “All right. I’ll be out in the living room if you need me. Can I get you anything, love?”

The blonde made himself comfortable in bed, now feeling ashamed of the mess he had made that Brian felt obligated to clean up. He shook his head as he covered himself with the blanket. “No, thanks. I think I’m all right.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too, Bri.”

Roger curled up on the bed, closing his eyes when the other man had left the room. He fell asleep almost instantly. He wasn’t sure how long he had slept for but when he woke up, the room was dark, but he could make out Brian lying in his pajama pants beside him, sleeping.

He looked over at the clock and seeing that it was just past 1 a.m., he rolled back over and curled up to Brian before he went back to sleep.


	25. hurt pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can tell, I've been on a roll with these chapters. Sorry if I'm pumping out more chapters than you can read in time, but the ideas are flowing through me and I must write! Hope you all are enjoying them.

**.    .    .**

  
The next morning went by quickly for everyone as they sipped coffee, chatted, practiced for a couple hours, and then started to get their instruments packed up in the van. By the time they had finished, it was already nearly three in the afternoon.

Roger was glad to see that Freddie and John had either gotten home safely and hadn’t drank, or they simply hadn’t gone out, but the important thing was that they were here safe and sound. He tried not to let guilt creep in again at the thought of him being the reason they couldn’t have the fun they wanted to have. He pushed it away for now, telling himself to wait until Ollie came back tomorrow to discuss things with him.

He had to get his head right for the show tonight.

“I say we have some tea and then head on over to set up,” Freddie suggested as he smoked a cigarette lazily, lounging on the couch with the telly on and John’s legs draped over the singer’s.

“Yeah,” Brian nodded. “Sounds good.” He walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on and took out four mugs.

Roger was sitting on the floor in front of John as he let his one arm hang off purposefully onto the drummer affectionately. He took his hand in his own and gently caressed the younger man’s skin, letting himself relax and enjoy this moment of peacefulness with the men.

“Should our setlist be the same as our practice set?” Brian asked them from the kitchen, but it was Freddie who answered him.

“They’re going to be the same seven songs, darling. I really don’t think it matters what order we play them yet. Everyone in the room will most likely be either drunk, stoned or both so no matter what, we’re bound to sound good, at least.”

This made everyone chuckle, even Brian a little bit, who nodded and shrugged. “I suppose you’re right, Freddie.”

“Oh, I _know_ I’m right! However, I believe we should actually start with ‘Keep Yourself Alive.’ It will give people a feel of what they’ve come to see, and it sends a powerful message at the same time…”

Roger listened to Brian suggest a different song, but it wasn’t long before the two men had begun to share their own opinions about each song and its tone and message, and soon it had become white noise. He was still caressing John’s hand absently as the morning news came on and then he heard the bassist’s voice.

“How are you feeling today, about the show, Rog?”

Roger could feel his breath on the nape of his neck but he didn’t mind. He took a moment to process what he was exactly feeling and he shrugged. “I’m okay, Deaky. I think I’m actually kind of excited for the gig later. It’ll be nice to have some money again, and not worry about it so much, you know?”

John smiled and nodded in agreement. “Yeah, money can indeed be quite stressful to think about. We’ll be all right, though. I think once we get through this, we’ll be able to find more shows to play more steadily and we’ll come into it easier.”

Roger hoped so because right now he was on the verge of going out and seeking out a job so they wouldn’t have to live from gig to gig, anxious about whether they’d be able to pay rent, get groceries, pay the cab fare, etc. He cared about the men, and he wanted them all to be as comfortable as he wanted to be; this wasn’t just about him and his anxiety.

The blonde smiled softly, still feeling assured by his words regardless. “I know you’re right, Deaks. It’s just easy to forget all that sometimes when we’re living on crumbs and tea.”

John gave his hand a gentle squeeze and smiled before he leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Well we’re all here to remind you.”

His words touched Roger’s heart and he smiled to himself before he kissed John’s lips. “Thanks, John.”

The other man moved down onto the floor to sit beside Roger, Freddie looking unfazed about the younger man’s absence as he finished his discussion with Brian about their songs when the guitarist interrupted Roger’s thoughts about John with a tray of tea placed on the coffee table for them all.

They sipped their tea and watched the news when Brian stood up suddenly.

“All right, gentlemen. Shall we be off then?” He started to put on his jacket, which seemed to be a signal for the others to also stand up and get ready as well.

There was an influx of putting on shoes, jackets, playful shoving and then they all loaded up in the van and headed towards the venue where they were about to play in a couple hours.

“We really must teach Roger how to drive,” Freddie declared, yawning. “With Brian driving, we’ll never get there!”

Roger leaned forward from his place in the back behind Brian’s driver’s seat. “I can drive! I’ve been able to drive for ages.”

“No, dear. You drive as if there’s a fire in your pants every time you turn on the ignition. It’s a liability to drive with you, especially when you’ve been drinking, which you shouldn’t be doing in the first place when you decide to drive us, by the way, darling!”

“ _You_ tell me to drive to help save on cab fare, Fred!” Roger objected enthusiastically. “It’s _your_ fault!”

Brian chuckled but tried to cover it up by pretending to itch his nose with his hand. Freddie looked aghast and John was laughing as well outright.

“Liar! You’re such a liar, darling…” Freddie rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I would never ask you to put us in danger like that.”

Although Roger had spoken in disbelief earlier, he was far from angry or offended. He was even chuckling. “It’s much safer to have Brian drive us, even if he does drive like an old grandmum.”

“Excuse me!” Brian exclaimed, stopping at a red light. “I’m driving like all of you _should_ be driving! I’m driving like a responsible adult, Rog!” He guffawed before the light turned green and he started to drive again.

“You stop at every red light!” Roger complained, his lips in a smirk. “Aargh, we’re never going to get there at this rate!”

The others laughed at his comment but Brian was smirking as he shook his head. “Do you want us to get in an accident. It’s a miracle that _you’ve_ never gotten in a collision, actually. I’m so glad I’m never in the van when you’re driving it.”

The men joked until they finally arrived at the venue and got out, all of them grabbing instruments and equipment to save trips as they headed inside. There was a surprising amount of people in there for it only being the early evening, but it at least wasn’t too crowded either.

They spent the next hour setting up, and when they had finished, they grabbed a table, deciding to enjoy a couple beers before they went on.

The faster time went by, the more anxious Roger felt himself getting. He didn’t feel good about having more than one drink, afraid he might black out again, so he stuck with one pint and his cigarettes instead. He glanced around, seeing more and more people file inside but soon it got too full and busy to pick out anyone specific. Roger looked around as best as he could, but he didn’t see any sign of James.

He watched the three men down their pints, John and Freddie both smoking as well, and then he caught Brian’s eye. The older man was giving him a reassuring smile before searching his face with questioning eyes, as if to gauge Roger’s feelings.

The drummer was bouncing his leg up and down nervously as he smoked his cigarette. He chewed on his bottom lip and then saw Brian reach over and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a physical touch that wouldn’t be seen as ‘obscene’ by homophobic persons nearby.

“It’s almost done. Are you ready, love?” He leaned in and spoke to Roger. When the drummer took a deep breath and nodded, Brian smiled. “Good man.”

Roger finished his pint and his cigarette just as the owner of the bar came up and introduced the band. The men hurried up on the stage as people kindly clapped for them and Roger got behind his drum kit. He grabbed his drumsticks and twirled them around his fingers several times to get his head in the zone.

“Hello, hello, you lovely people,” Freddie smiled out at the crowd as he took the mic out of its stand started to walk across the stage. “Are you ready to have some fun with us tonight?”

The crowd cheered now, which encouraged Roger. He looked over at Brian who gave him a small nod as he smiled and then waited for the guitarist to start playing before he did as well. Freddie sang like they weren’t singing in front of their biggest crowd yet; even John was dancing a little bit at his spot, moving only when he had to get chords out of the way for either himself or Freddie who wouldn’t stop moving as they went through song by song.

On their last song, all of them were moderately sweaty. Roger quickly lifted his arm during his break to wipe the perspiration from his forehead and that was when he saw him.

_Him._

James.

He was in the crowd, in a red shirt, holding a pint in his hand, looking up on stage directly at Roger. The drummer glanced at him, feeling panic begin to set in again, but this time there was also anger too. He wasn’t sure how that was possible to feel both those things at once, but here he was.

Roger refocused himself just in time to finish the song off. Their audience cheered and clapped loudly and Freddie and Brian both waved gratefully at them, smiling as Roger remained frozen in place at his drum set.

He took a deep breath and as everyone started to move back towards the bar, Brian looked back at his bandmates and saw Roger’s tense demeanor. He walked over to him and as he did so, Roger saw James disappear into the crowd.

“Hey, you okay, Rog?”

The drummer set his sticks down and blinked before he looked up at Brian. “Hm? Y-Yeah, yeah. I’m all right. I’m just… going to get a drink. Anyone else want another?” He stood up and surveyed the other men.

“I’ll take one, dear, thank you.”

“Deaky?” Roger glanced over at the bassist.

“Sure, cheers, Roger.”

He looked over at Brian who shook his head but was sticking close to him. “I’ll go up with you to help carry them back.

Roger was about to object and say something about him being babysat again but Brian was already halfway to the bar. He hurried to catch up to him and suddenly was met with a pair of brown eyes, and long, brown hair, smiling flirtatiously at him as she rushed to introduce herself.

“Hey there,” she smiled, moving closer to him. “I’m Emily. You’re Roger, right? The drummer?”

He looked around for Brian to rescue him but found himself alone. “Um, right. Yeah, you like the set?” He asked, trying to stay friendly while also keeping a look out for James.

She nodded, still smiling. “It was great. You were great!”

“Thanks, appreciate it, really. I’m sorry, I really ought to go…” He gently touched her arms to get around her and she didn’t seem too upset about his leaving as she moved out of the way as well when Roger suddenly bumped into a body.

Thinking it was another fan, he was quick to apologize. “Oh, pardon me, I’m sorry.”

“It’s quite all right, Roger…”

The drummer froze, realizing that he was face to face with James now. He looked up to see him closer to Roger than he would have preferred. His breath caught in his throat and he took a step back, but James moved closer to him before he wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“It’s nice to see you again. I’ve missed you, really. There’s been a couple on and off lovers but all of them were simply disappointing. Maybe we should talk somewhere a little more private?”

“No,” Roger said quickly, trying to back away from him, but James kept him close.

“Oh come on now, Roger… no need to be so rude. It’s awfully noisy out here. We could go someplace a little quieter, talk a little,” James offered, his voice sounding more like ordering than asking.

“N-No,” Roger stammered this time, his voice getting weaker now as James touched him more forcefully, feeling himself freezing up. He tried to get out of his hold but James was holding him so tightly and close, that he knew to anyone else, it wouldn’t look like anything with ill intentions.

“There you are, Roger! I really could have used another hand to help me… oh, who is this, then?”

Roger was about to say his name when James spoke quickly.

“Ash,” James spoke, bringing his hand out to greet Brian. “I apologize for keeping Roger here. We were just catching up. Weren’t we, Rog?”

The nickname took Roger by surprise and he swallowed hard, seeing the hard look in James’ eyes that told him he better not tell Brian the truth right now. He choked and started nodding.

“Y-Yeah, yeah. We… bumped into each other, just now.”

Brian looked at him suspiciously before he glanced back at James. “Well, I would shake your hand, but as you can see, mine are full. If you two are friends, you can hang out if you want,” Brian looked at Roger, searching his face for any sign of fear or hesitation.

Roger just nodded, not letting the other man see sign of neither out of fear that James might hurt Brian or any of the other men if he didn’t play along right now.

“All right, then. John and I are going to pack our things up and then come back inside. Well, come join us when you’re ready, Roger,” Brian looked at his boyfriend, still searching for something he couldn’t find before he moved away from James.

Suddenly, his senses kicked in again, adrenaline kicking in. “W-Wait, Brian!” he shouted but it was clear that the guitarist couldn’t hear him as a sea of people made their way between them and were loudly talking and laughing, blocking his pleas.

James pulled Roger into another room just as a second band came on stage and started to play. Once they were both in the room, James pressed his lips hard against Roger’s so firmly that Roger was feeling pain.

He shoved James back, feeling adrenaline still pumping through his body. “Get the fuck away from me! I don’t want anything to do with you!”

“That’s not very nice, Roger…” James backhanded Roger so hard that he fell on his hands and knees in front of the other man. “You seemed to have forgotten your manners again. Let me refresh your memory.”

James began to undo his pants and grabbed Roger’s hair roughly in his hand and then slammed his face into the wall. Pain radiated through his face and he coughed, tasting blood but unsure where it was coming from. He tried to get back onto his feet but James pulled him back down again onto his knees in front of him.

“Open your mouth, Taylor. You know that you want it.”

Roger’s fear was unsurmountable right now as he tried to think how to get out of this situation. He felt fearful tears in his eyes as he realized how this could easily go the same way it went last time. He had tried to attempt suicide because of his rape the first time. If he had to go through this hell a second time,  Roger knew he would make sure that he didn’t survive this time.

_No._

He needed to get the fuck out of here, but first he needed answers. He slowly rose to his feet.

“W-Why did you lie to Brian about your name…?”

James shrugged, moving closer to Roger and slid his hand under Roger’s shirt, causing him to flinch away. “I figured you wouldn’t be smart enough to keep your delicious mouth shut about our little one-night stand last time. Lying about my name gave me this time with you, to taste you again, and to make you taste me.”

Roger felt sick at the assumption of being forced to do anything again. He felt his breathing getting ragged out of panic and then started towards the door but then felt James grab his shirt and throw him on the floor.

The drummer landed hard on his arm and heard a _pop_ before he cried out, feeling agony in his shoulder all of a sudden. He scrambled to get up again but the felt James grab his leg.

“You’re not going anywhere! Get back over here, Roger!”

The blonde shook his head quickly even though he was sure that the other man couldn’t see him. He brought his leg back hard to kick him and heard a loud groan come from him. He glanced back and saw that he had managed to kick him square in the face, breaking his nose. James looked surprised at first, but then it turned into rage.

He had to get out. Now.

Roger forced himself up and opened the door with his good hand before he ran out into the crowd, his heart racing in his chest as he looked for Brian, John, and Freddie. He could still taste blood on his lips and in his mouth but he tried to stay focused.

He gently pushed his way through the crowd, afraid of upsetting anyone else, and felt relief wash over him when he saw the three men standing at the table near the stage as the band played. He hurried over, glancing behind him to see James close behind. He neared the table and he must have been a sight to be seen because all three of them quickly stood up, their eyes widening.

Roger didn’t care how awful it looked because fear was draining him quickly. He hurried behind the men so they were standing in front of him.

“Roger? What the hell is going on? What happened?” Brian asked, looking from Roger to whatever the drummer was running from, and then it clicked. He looked back at the other two men who were busy tending to Roger worriedly before they looked back at Brian.

Something clicked between the three of them and then the guitarist took a threatening step towards James. He searched his face. “You must be James.”

“Out of my way, darling! I’m going to beat him to a bloody pulp!” Freddie exclaimed as he moved towards James.

Brian put an arm out to stop him as he glared at James. “We’ve just finished a gig, Freddie. We can’t let anyone see us get into a fight our first gig in weeks. Just let him go tonight.”

James chuckled and smirked before he spit blood in Brian’s direction on the floor. “I figured you’d be a coward and not even stand up for your boyfriend. It’s no wonder he’d rather fuck me than you. Does he moan your name in bed like he does mine?”

Roger stood there, horrified. He blinked; his eyes wide at James’ comment towards Brian. The worst part was that he couldn’t even see his face; he could only assume that the older man was fuming at the thought that Roger had been potentially cheating on him and he hadn’t, in fact, been raped.

To his surprise, it wasn’t Brian that reacted to James’ insult, but John. Before anyone knew what was happening, John had flown himself towards James and punched him in the face. Brian blinked and then put himself between him and John, putting his hands on the bassist’s shoulders to try and calm him down.

“ _You’re_ the fucking coward!” John screamed at him angrily. “You are! You’re a fucking rapist!”

James looked around to see people watching them now and it was clear that it was time to leave. Freddie hurried over to John and Brian moved over to Roger before he started to gently guide them all out of the club.

“Come on, gentlemen. To the van,” he encouraged, sighing heavily. No one said anything for several minutes as they walked outside and then got into the van. Roger and John both sat in back, looking at each other but not saying anything.

Brian turned to look at all of them but mainly turned his attention to Roger. “What happened, Roger?” His voice was gentle. “You’re bleeding…” He reached out to touch his face as he examined to see where the blood was coming from. He looked at him worriedly. “We should go to hospital.”

Roger shook his head and sighed, knowing now he had to say something or else he would be trapped in there once again. The first time was bad enough; he didn’t wish to go through that long without a cigarette.

“N-No, I’m fine, Bri.. Really. N-Nothing happened… I promise.”

Brian looked unassured and skeptical. He sighed softly and then caressed the drummer’s reddened cheek. Before Roger could stop himself, he flinched as the guitarist thumbed his skin, still feeling jumpy from earlier.

Brian quickly retracted his hand as if Roger had burnt him. He wet his lip, searching his eyes. “Did… did it happen again? You can tell us. We’re not going to judge you or anything. We just want to help you, and murder that psychopath if he hurt you again.”

“He didn’t do… _that_ again. He just… hit me. I’m fine, though. Can we please just go home now?” The drummer was trying his best to keep his panic at bay.

If Brian believed James’ words about him cheating on the guitarist, he didn’t let it show. Brian looked around at the other two men who appeared to be still attempting to calm down themselves before he nodded and turned front, starting the van up.

Roger ran his fingers through his hair, closing his eyes and putting his face in his hands as he leaned forward on the van seat. He was never going to escape James; Somehow, he would always find Roger and he would hurt him. He felt sick.

It was a quiet ride back to the flat and when they finally parked and Brian shut the engine off, no one bothered to even get the equipment out of the back. They all headed inside. Freddie and John walked into the kitchen to get a nightcap to continue to calm down and Roger made a beeline for the bedroom.

He wanted this night to be over with. He didn’t want to think about everything that had happened, or almost happened, or everything that James had said to him. He’d be seeing Ollie tomorrow anyway; he could tell him then.

He was getting undressed when Brian walked in and closed the door so they could talk privately. “Can we talk for a minute?”

_Shit. Maybe he would have to talk about it tonight after all._

Roger nodded, deciding maybe this would be a good time to defend himself against certain things James had told Roger. He was no longer tasting blood, but he could feel it still on his face. He reached over and was about to grab a tissue when Brian grabbed it first and sat down across from Roger, dabbing at it gently.

“Okay, so… firstly, why did you lie to me in the bar about who he was? I mean, you just went along with what he was telling you.”

Roger shrugged. “I was afraid… that he’d hurt you if I didn’t. He’s… a real asshole.”

“He’s a monster, Rog,” the guitarist replied softly, finishing cleaning him up and then noticing Roger’s arm hanging at an awkward angle. His face dropped and his eyes widened. “Oh my god… did he break your arm?”

To be honest, Roger had barely even felt it with all the adrenaline pumping through his body. As it was starting to wear off, though, he admittedly was starting to feel it, like shards of glass in his shoulder. He held his arm close to him.

“I-It’s dislocated,” he diagnosed, recognizing the feeling now. He had his fair share of dislocations and breaks from his father and he was able to diagnose them based on the pain alone. “We can take care of it here at home. Just… go on, if you’ve got more questions, ask them.”

Brian was still eyeing the arm uneasily but managed to refocus again on the conversation. “What happened to you? What did he do before you found us?”

“Like I said before,” Roger sighed. “He just hit me. He… forced me on my knees in front of him and… he undid his pants but… I told him no, and he smashed my face into the wall. He was angry that I didn’t want to do anything to him.”

Brian’s hands turned into closed fists now but he took a deep breath to try and bring himself back down again. “That fucking prick. I’m glad John punched him. Christ… this is so messed up, Roger. We need to go to the police before he hurts you again!”

The younger man shook his head. “What’s the point? They’re not going to do anything!”

“We need to make them. James needs to be locked up for what he did and is still doing to you! This is assault.”

Roger stood up now, feeling frustrated and angry and sad all at once. “It doesn’t fucking matter, Brian! Don’t you get it? The police aren’t going to lift a finger to help us! They want us dead because of what we are! They’re not going to put him in jail, even if he is gay, because he’s just hurting me, like they want to do too! None of it fucking matters.”

He was feeling so worked up about this that his fear was gone and just replaced with rage. He was ready to go back to that bar, find James, and beat the shit out of him. When he looked back at Brian, he noticed tears in his eyes.

Roger’s stomach dropped, wondering if Brian was thinking about James’ accusations now.

“W-What is it..,?”

Brian shook his head and quickly wiped his eyes before he suddenly let out a loud sob, and started crying, covering his mouth to try and muffle himself. Roger felt his heart breaking and he no longer was thinking about James, but of Brian.

He helped him sit down on the bed with his good arm, and then sat close to him. “Brian,” he said gently. “Why’re you crying? That’s my job, remember?”

Brian let out a weak chuckle before he continued to cry again. He looked at his boyfriend, his eyes red and puffy. “I-I should’ve been there for y-you… both times. I wasn’t there for you the first time you were raped by him, a-and now…he hurt you again and I wasn’t there for y-you, _again_. I’m a shit boyfriend, Rog… you deserve better than me.”

Roger felt tears welling in his own eyes now, which usually happened whenever someone he cared about was crying. He swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected Brian to say any of these things. There hadn’t been one moment in Roger’s mind where he had blamed him for what happened to him.

“Brian… none of this is your fault. You’re a great boyfriend. James is just… sneaky and manipulative and… abusive. You’re right, I should’ve told you who he was earlier, but I was scared. I’d rather he hurt me than any of you, a-and I promise that I didn’t cheat on you, Brian. What he said earlier – I didn’t do any of it w-willingly, I swear…”

The older man wiped his face and nodded before he took Roger’s hand in his own. “I know. I know you didn’t. You’re a lot of things, Rog, but I love you, and I know you love John and I and I know you wouldn’t do that to us.”

Relief flooded the drummer now and he wrapped his good arm around Brian and buried himself into his chest. He breathed him in, relaxing again. “I-I wouldn’t. I promise. He’s a liar. I hate him so much.”

“Me too, but we’ll get through this,” Brian sniffed and wiped his tears away. “Ollie comes tomorrow… maybe you can talk to him about this?”

Roger nodded, having already planned on doing that. He bit his lip and searched Brian’s eyes. “Is there such thing as talking too much to someone?”

Brian let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “No, never.”

“H-Has he called yet with my test results?”

The other man shook his head. “No, not yet. He’ll probably have them by tomorrow. He’s probably waiting to tell you when he sees you again. Have you been having any symptoms of anything?”

Roger didn’t need to ask what he meant; he had read all about sexually transmitted diseases and symptoms thereof in his anatomy and health classes. He shook his head.

“Good.”

“Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?”

Brian gave him a small smile before he kissed Roger’s temple and put his forehead gently against his. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

Roger rolled his eyes, chuckling before he smirked. “Probably the same way I got lucky to have you.”


	26. alone

**.    .    .**

  
  
“Roger? Is something on your mind? You’ve been quiet since I arrived.”

The drummer glanced up and blinked, not realizing he hadn’t said anything. Of course he hadn’t, everything he was thinking was obviously in his head and he hadn’t spoken any of it. He took a breath and rubbed his eyes with his palms, feeling overwhelmed by everything he was feeling.

Ollie remained patient though, watching Roger. “Whatever you tell me is said in confidence; I won’t tell Brian or the others unless you want me to.”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Roger replied honestly, taking a shaky breath now. He started to rub his palms on his thighs, back and forth.

“You look a bit anxious, Roger,” Ollie noted, glancing at the drummer’s subconscious act. “Whatever it is, start wherever you feel the most comfortable and we’ll work it out from there.”

Roger was quiet for a long time, knowing he was wasting Ollie’s time by not speaking to him during this time together. He didn’t have forever with him and he had to remind himself this day was the day he’s been looking forward to for the past couple days now. He needed to use their time together wisely.

“Let’s start with the tests. What were the results?”

Ollie gave him a small smile. “You’re clean, luckily, of everything. Negative on sexually transmitted diseases and… the bigger ones.”

Roger breathed a sigh of relief now and ran his fingers through his hair. “Thank god.”

“You really did get lucky, Roger. These days, the odds of contracting something are higher than not. So… now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

The drummer nodded but didn’t say anything again for several minutes. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shrugged, looking down. He felt pathetic; he had looked forward to this for days and now all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and not think about any of it. He instantly winced though, feeling the pain in his shoulder still. It had been a long night last night and Roger had basically passed out from exhaustion that they didn’t get a chance to fix his shoulder.

Ollie noticed the wince right away. “Did something happen to your arm, Roger?” He tilted his head to the side before searching Roger’s eyes. “Now that I see it, it looks like you might have hurt it. Did that happen last night?”

Roger nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. “We played a show last night… and I ran into him. I… I ran into James, the bloke that raped me before.”

“I’m sorry, Roger. That must have been very difficult for you,” Ollie spoke sincerely. “How did that confrontation go for you?”

The blonde looked down at his hands. “He hurt me again,” he confessed, motioning to his face where a cut on his lip was now visible. “It was… my fault, though. I let him get me alone again and… he tried to force me to…” Roger trailed off, before he scoffed, feeling disgusted with himself.

“What did he force you to do, Roger?”

He knew that Ollie already had an idea of what it was, but he just wanted the other man to say the worlds aloud himself. He swallowed hard and took a shaky breath. “He… forced me on my knees in front of him and… he was about to force me to… you know,” he cleared his throat, unable to say it yet. Thankfully Ollie was understanding and simply nodded.

“Right… so, how did you get out of that situation? You must have been terrified.”

Roger nodded. “Y-Yeah, I was, but… I hurt him and it gave me time to run for the door, but then he grabbed me, and tried to stop me from leaving. I was able to kick him away, and then I ran out of the room and found Brian and the others.”

“I’m glad you were able to find them before he hurt you any worse. Do you mind if I ask you a question, Roger?” When he shook his head, Ollie continued. “There’s absolutely no judgement going on here, I promise, but… I’m curious; if you remember how he raped you before, what made you go into a room alone with him again?”

“He threatened to hurt them if I didn’t,” Roger answered, ready with his reply. He figured it would an obvious question for Ollie to ask him at some point.

The other man nodded understandingly. “Does it bother you at all that Brian didn’t stay by your side when your attacker was right there with you? Does it make you angry at all?”

Roger shook his head. “No, why should it? It was my own fault.”

“Why do you say that, Roger?”

The blonde sighed and shrugged. “I lied to him, about who James was. I went along with it, I agreed to go into that back room with him. Even the first time, when I blacked out, that was my fault too.”

Ollie was quiet for a few minutes, letting him talk. He wrote down something and then looked at the man again patiently. “You said it yourself, Roger; you blacked out. From what Brian has told me, which isn’t a lot, granted, but… he told me you blacked out when you and Liam had that argument. Did you take any drugs or drink massive amounts of alcohol that first time with James?”

Roger shook his head. “I had a few drinks, and just cigarettes, but that was it. They pumped my stomach at the hospital, though and said I had Rohypnol in my system.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Roger. James is a psychopath, and a rapist. That’s what they do. You shouldn’t blame yourself for anything that he does. It is not your fault,” Ollie spoke firmly, searching the drummer’s face and saw confusion and disbelief written all over it.

Roger shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his body, feeling anxiety building up as well as tears in his eyes.

_Of course this was all his fault._

“I… I chose that pub that night, though. I did. I chose to go there the night of the argument I had with Brian. I just wanted to get out of here so… I-I punched him and went there.”

“How were you to know that anyone would drug you, though? There’s no way that you would, Roger. No one expects something like that to happen to them when they go out. You’re not psychic; you didn’t… see that he was going to commit those atrocities to you. That night, and last night is not your fault.”

Roger took a shaky breath as tears ran down his cheeks. He quickly wiped them away before he bit his lip to stop himself from crying but winced, suddenly having a cruel reminder of James’ backhand to his face. “If it’s not my fault, then why the hell do I feel so guilty? I feel guilty _all_ the time.”

Ollie gave him a concerned smile and leaned on his knees. “I suspect you feel guilty because of your father, Roger. From what I’ve been told about him, he was a very strict, very abusive man when you were growing up, yeah?”

Roger nodded and inhaled through his nostrils. “Y-Yeah, he was… he was pretty bad. I still don’t understand what he has to do with me feeling guilty though.”

“Abusive parents like to make their children feel… small, insignificant. They blame them when anything inconvenient happens. Did he blame you a lot for things when you lived with him?”

Roger nodded and looked down at his hands.

“Abuse a child long enough, and they’ll begin to believe they’ve done something to deserve it. It happens a lot with abusive parents. Your guilt stems from you father, and I know this is something huge, and difficult of me to ask of you, but… you need to learn how to stop blaming yourself for forces out of your control. That will be our long-term goal, to ease the guilt and replace it with something else. Does that sound all right?”

He was hesitant at first but nodded. He was tired of this blame that he placed on himself and tired of the guilt he felt every single minute of every day; it was eating away at him. “Y-Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Wonderful. Thank you, Roger, for talking with me today. I really appreciate it. I think you’re making great strides as well. You haven’t been taking your meds, though, have you?”

It wasn’t so much a question than a statement. There was no use in denying it. He shook his head. “I don’t like how it makes me feel. I don’t want to feel numb anymore.”

“That’s understandable,” Ollie nodded as he wrote something else down. “I’m going to guess that it’s been a few days since you stopped taking them so let’s try and wait another week, wean you off of them and then I’ll prescribe something else to you, depending how you feel.”

Roger searched his eyes, stiffening. “So… you’re not going to give me anything at all? I’ve been having panic attacks. Can you give me something for my anxiety at least?”

“I would feel better if we waited until the old pills are out of you so we can start fresh. When you feel an attack coming on, though, do the breathing technique you do during them. It should help to calm your nervous system down, pump more oxygen to your heart. I suggest cutting back on the smoking as well.”

“They help me, though.”

Ollie smiled softly, shaking his head. “They’re also hurting you. They’re actually making you feel more anxious without you realizing it. I’m going to come back in a week, and we’ll talk some more, see where you stand. All right, mate?”

Roger felt like he could have objected about it all night long but he knew it would just get him nowhere. Maybe he was feeling agitated because he was going through withdrawal from the medication and weaning really was the best thing for him after all. He nodded and stood up.

“Right, okay. Thanks for coming again.”

Ollie looked at him cautiously before he wrote something down on a small piece of paper and handed it to Roger. “Feel free to throw it out if this is inappropriate but speaking as a friend, feel free to call me if you need to talk in between our sessions, or if you need anything else. I want to help you.”

The drummer took the number and pocketed it, giving him a small smile. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Great,” Ollie smiled and then shook his hand. “Have a great rest of your day, Roger.”

The drummer nodded. “Yeah, thanks. You too.”

He walked Ollie out of the house before he closed the door and was met face to face with a curious Brian who walked towards him, his hands reaching out to the blonde.

“How did it go?”

Roger shrugged and then shook his head. “I dunno, same as always, I guess. We talked about guilt that… that I’ve been feeling,” he admitted sheepishly. “He told me how it’s not my fault, and that’s because of my father, and that he’d see me in a week before putting me on new medication.”

Brian’s face contorted in pain as he listened to Roger. He gently caressed his hands in his own before he kissed them. “It makes sense,” he nodded. “How it could stem from your father. He was a messed-up person, just like James and Liam.”

Roger nodded in agreement and then chuckled half-heartedly. “Can we talk about something other than my father and my therapy session?”

“Of course, Rog. Would you like some tea?”

The drummer smiled. “Sure, thank you.” He followed Brian into the kitchen and then bit his lip anxiously before he took a deep breath. “What do you think about… me getting a job somewhere?”

Brian turned around, his brows knitting in confusion. “You don’t need to do that, though. We got the money; I’ve paid the rent and we still have a reasonable amount left over for groceries and cab fare.”

“I know, but…” Roger tongued his cut lip. “I feel like I just need to get out of here, you know? I feel… useless around here. When I’m here, I’m just lying around feeling depressed and it’s like I start to get sucked into that black hole.”

“Roger, you’re not useless around here. You’re anything but. Did Ollie suggest you get a job?”

The drummer sighed in frustration. “No,” he leaned against the counter. “I just… want to feel useful. I want to feel like… I matter, by doing this for all of us. I’m not planning on pocketing all the money. I was going to share it with the rest of you. I just feel like I need to do this, Bri.”

The guitarist took this in and leaned forward, resting his hands on his boyfriend’s waist gently. He kissed his forehead. “You _do_ matter, to me, and the others. You matter, Rog, but… if you really want to do this, then I’m not going to stop you. Where were you thinking about applying?”

Roger leaned into the older man, resting against him. “The café on the corner. They’re always hiring so I figured I’d have a better chance of getting it. I know it won’t be a lot of money or anything, but I just need a distraction.”

Brian leaned back now and nodded, giving him a warm smile. “That’s fine, Roger. I get it. I hope you don’t mind if I check in on you every few hours.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had such a needy boyfriend,” Roger chuckled jokingly.

The other man smirked as he playfully narrowed his eyes at him. He started tickling his sides and laughed as he screeched and squirmed, giggling fitfully. When Brian stopped, he wrapped his arms around Roger and held him to his chest lovingly, kissing his temple.

“We can go apply there today, if you’d like?”

Roger nodded, eager to get his distraction sooner than later. He knew this job would keep his mind busy, at least, and that would be great. He’d feel productive and worthy, and those things mattered to Roger more than ever right now. He wasn’t sure but he felt like keeping busy might one of the only things keeping from attempting again.

“All right. We’ll drink some tea and then head out, yeah?”

Roger nodded and then glanced over at John and Freddie; they had been so quiet that he almost forgot they were still in the room. The two men were draped over each other, sleeping peacefully. He smiled at them.

“Adorable, aren’t they?”

Roger chuckled and smirked. “Couple of the year, I’d say. It’s lucky that we were able to kick Tim out of the band and got someone like Deaky.”

“You mean, someone like… us? Gay?” Brian asked thoughtfully as he turned the stove off and poured them both two cups of tea.

Roger nodded. “Yeah, I mean, think about it, Bri… if we never found Deaky, we would’ve been stuck with Tim and not able to even hold hands or be together! Tim would’ve probably bashed us all the time. Or if John had turned out to be a homophobic prick as well, that would’ve been the worst, and Freddie would’ve been alone!”

“I don’t think Freddie would have been alone in the biblical sense, but I see your point, Rog. Tim was definitely an awful person.”

Roger sipped his tea before nodding. “The worst,” he was quiet for several moments as a thought crossed his mind. “D-Do you ever… miss him?”

“Tim? No, I don’t, to be honest. We have a singer and a bass player who are both loads better than Tim ever was, and on top of that, I can’t imagine never having met them in the first place. They’re good men, like brothers to me.”

Brian’s answer made Roger smile. “I can’t imagine never have met them either.”

They drank their tea before they headed down the road to the café to apply for Roger’s new job. They were surprised when the barista there told the drummer that he didn’t need to apply after all;  they were so desperate for more baristas that he was more than welcome to come in in the mornings starting tomorrow, if he wished. Roger instantly agreed, grateful for this amazing opportunity.

It didn’t matter that he would just be slinging coffees and handing people their breakfasts and such. He needed this for his own sanity. When he looked over at Brian, however, his heart sunk to see the guitarist looking unsure but still forcing a smile for Roger’s sake. It was clear that this was something that Brian wasn’t one hundred percent on board with this.

He tried to push the thought out of his mind though as they headed back home again. When they walked through the door, Freddie and John were sharing a cigarette on the couch with the telly on. Roger felt a wall between himself and Brian now, and he sighed before facing him.

“Can we talk? In private?”

Brian seemed surprised by this but nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He led them into their bedroom and closed the door before turning to face him. “What’s on your mind?”

“What’s your problem?” Roger asked bluntly, needing this wall to be broken down right away.

The guitarist raised his brows in surprise. “I’m sorry?”

“I saw your face at the café, Brian. I know you don’t like the idea of this happening, my getting a job there. I’m excited about this but you look like I just killed your dog.”

“We don’t have a dog, Rog,” Brian said distractedly.

“It’s a metaphor, Brian!” He sighed exasperatedly. “Tell me why you aren’t happy I’m doing this! I need to know.”

Brian shook his head and started towards the door. Roger hurried to grab his hand to stop him and the guitarist turned to face him. “Because it feels like I’m not enough! You want this job to help distract yourself from your depression, but it makes me feel like I’m not enough to do that for you! You’re looking to feel useful and feel like life is actually worth living… well, why am I not enough for any of that? Why can’t you live for me?”

Roger was in shock at Brian’s words and felt them cut a layer into his heart that it turned into anger. “This isn’t about you!”

The guitarist sighed and rubbed his face before he took a deep breath. “I’m not trying to make this about me, Rog. I promise I’m not, but… I feel like I don’t even matter to you, like you can’t just want to live for me?”

Roger shook his head. “I love you, Brian, but… I can’t live for people. People let me down, they always have, and as much as I want to believe that you’re different, I know that one day, you’ll do or say something that will let me down too. My depression and anxiety aren’t your fault, Bri. I can’t control how I feel at certain times. I want to be happy around you, because I love you, but… it isn’t like that.”

Brian nodded, but he still was looking disappointed and looked anywhere but at Roger. He remained quiet, however, and tongued his cheek before he just nodded again and then turned around and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Roger alone.

He watched Brian leave and felt tears fill his eyes again. He needed Brian to understand, but he just didn’t. He wanted to be Roger’s reason for living, and he was upset that he couldn’t be. Roger wasn’t sure what to; all he knew was that he felt more alone than ever.


	27. distractions

**.     .    .**

  
The next couple days were difficult between Roger and Brian. There was a tense silence in any room where they were alone but the silence felt so loud that Roger felt like his eardrums were going to burst; he couldn’t stand it, so he would walk out of said room just so he didn’t have to feel uncomfortable.

He knew it wasn’t an ideal solution.

He knew he needed to talk it out with Brian, and even though he had talked about it with him a couple days ago, things still felt so _heavy._

More often than not, Roger found himself walking to the corner store or simply just going to work at the café. The café was his escape, and he even looked forward to his 9am to 5am days instead of his 5am to 2pm days. He didn’t mind waiting on most people; there was always that one person, though, who gave him a hard time when he messed up an order he didn’t remember because his mind decided to fog up and he blacked out for five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes.

He was grateful for the others who were patient and kind. Those people made the job worth it. Plus, he didn’t mind getting away from Brian with the thick tenseness hanging in the flat. John and Freddie mostly did their own thing except when it came to practice, of course.

Yesterday’s practice had been rough.

Roger had gotten upset because he had blacked out for a solid minute and came in too late, and they had to start over. Brian had been decent about it until it happened again forty minutes later. Then, the guitarist had exploded on him.

They had a yelling match for at least twenty minutes, back and forth, until Freddie finally decided to call it for the day, and went outside for a smoke with John, leaving Roger and Brian alone. The fight hadn’t stopped though; Roger had gotten so frustrated that he started to cry.

That had made Brian stop. Neither man had apologized, though. The older man just stomped out of the flat and got into his van and went down to the pub for a pint. Roger had been left standing there, feeling like an idiot as he sniffled before he threw his drumstick across the room in anger.

Now, Roger was sitting with Ollie in his bedroom, smoking a cigarette as he discussed the past couple day’s events. He knew that he shouldn’t be smoking, of course, but it felt good to be doing _something._

“We’ve talked about Brian for a while this session,” Ollie spoke softly. “We’ll come back to him later, but let’s talk about you, yeah? How are you liking your new job?”

Roger gave a small smile and nodded. “Yeah, I like it a lot, actually. It’s nice to be able to get out of the flat for several hours… it almost makes me miss being home.”

Ollie nodded, writing something down. “Is there anything you don’t like about it?”

Roger scratched his temple uneasily and sighed. “The blackouts, I guess. They’ve been happening more and more lately, and they make me miss orders… makes it difficult to catch up again.”

Ollie’s brows knitted in concern. “How long do you usually black out for, Roger?”

The drummer sighed, leaning back in the chair before he put the cigarette out, shrugging. “Few minutes, most of the time, but sometimes I lose twenty. It doesn’t even make sense though! There’s no reason for them. They just happen randomly. Is there any way to make them go away?”

Ollie thought for a moment before he leaned forward and searched Roger’s face. “You told me how you blacked out when you had that fight with Liam before, and it seems you and Brian have been fighting more often now as well. It appears to me that your blackouts are a combination of anxiety, stress, and anger. These are all things we’re going to work through in time, but let’s take things one at a time. Let’s try something that should help with both your anxiety and your stress. Do you think you’re up for it?”

Roger was hesitant to try anything, but not blacking out during work seemed essential right now. He nodded.

“Good,” Ollie smiled. “All right, Roger… make yourself comfortable, whether it be in the chair, on the bed, or even on the floor. Just make sure you’re comfortable,”

Roger nodded and decided to move onto the bed, laying down on his back, looking over at the other man.

“Now I want you to close your eyes and just listen to my words,” he instructed, his voice now soft and gentle. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you. I want you to take a few breaths, as if you were in the middle of a panic attack. Breathe to bring yourself back down again, open up your lungs…”

The drummer did as he was told. He inhaled slowly through his nose, held it, and then slowly let it out through his mouth until he felt empty. He did this a few times, imagining that he was having a panic attack, and doing what Brian had taught him months ago to do in the midst of one. He felt his whole body relaxing and he felt like he might fall asleep but did his best not to.

“Good…” Ollie whispered. “I want to now imagine your anxiety, all your stress, as clouds, floating around near you all day. There are a lot of them, a lot of clouds that almost seem suffocating, don’t they? Let’s get rid of them. As you breathe out, I want you to imagine yourself blowing all these clouds away from you. Imagine them floating up and away from you. Imagine them flying away, out of your sight, out of your mind. They’re all gone. When you feel ready, come back to me, Roger.”

Roger did all this, exhaling the “clouds” of anxiety he felt. He imagined himself balling up each bunch and plopping it on a cloud before exhaling, letting them blow away from him. As he breathed, he could soon feel himself come back again and he slowly opened his eyes and looked over at Ollie.

“How do you feel, Rog?”

The drummer nodded and chuckled, feeling silly. “Yeah, I… I feel better, lighter, I think.”

“That’s great. I’m really glad to hear that,” Ollie nodded, smiling. “You can do these exercises whenever you start to feel overwhelmed by anxiety or stress, and in time, I really believe it will help you. Our session is almost over now. Do you have any questions?”

Roger slowly sat up but remained on the bed. “What about a prescription for meds? It’s been a week now. I’m pretty sure it’s all out of my system.”

Ollie started to collect his things up. “Well, I’m hoping we won’t have to resort to medication for now. To be honest with you, any medication I put you on will have some pretty bad side effects, and I feel it will make you feel worse, so let’s keep with the meditation instead of the medication, yeah? If you still feel bad in a couple weeks, then we’ll come back to the issue and figure something out, but let’s just put it on the backburner for now.”

Roger nodded and cleared his throat. “What should I do if I’m at work, though? I can’t keep blacking out there or else I’m going to lose my job.”

Ollie looked at Roger curiously as he stood up, his eyes still friendly. “Do you feel anything before you’re about to black out, besides anxiety, I mean? Do you feel any tingling or numbness or anything? Some people report such things as nausea, muscle twitching or headaches right before they black out.”

Roger straightened. “Headaches, I get headaches.”

Ollie nodded, satisfied that he could help Roger with something. “That’s good that you can see that pattern, Roger. When you get a headache, I want you to stay with it. I know it sounds crazy, but stay with the pain, and excuse yourself to the loo and splash cool water on your face. Breathe out, and in, about three times or until you don’t feel the headache anymore. Try this. Try your best to stay in the moment, keep track of a clock if you can. Report back to me your results, yeah?”

Roger searched his face, finding all of this advice unusual, but nodded regardless. Ollie might be fresh out of university, but he wasn’t stupid; the man still knew what he was talking about, and he had helped Roger earlier with his anxiety. He trusted him.

“All right. I can do that,” Roger agreed, nodded as he finally got off the bed. He reached his hand out and felt Ollie shake it. “Thanks, mate.”

“No thanks needed, Roger. I’m glad to do this. Honestly, all I want to do is help people, and if I can help one person, then I feel good. Have a great rest of your day, mate.”

“You too,” Roger walked him out of the flat and closed the door behind him, feeling good. He ran his fingers through his hair and when he turned around, he saw Brian in the kitchen, making tea.

The older man didn’t say anything, but Roger felt like maybe he should. He walked closer to him and stopped when he was just a foot away from him, leaning on the corner. The drummer cleared his dry throat.  “Hey.”

Brian glanced up from his cup and turned around to look at Roger, a guarded look on his face. “Hello, Rog.”

_More silence._

Roger wanted to scream at the guitarist, order him to hit Roger, or yell at him instead. He just wanted the other man to show some emotion. He looked at him and sighed softly, feeling awkward. Apologizing was never a strength, nor did it come easy for him. He just wanted to fast forward this part and stop it at the part where they kiss and make up.

“Everything all right?” Brian’s face had softened slightly.

Roger nodded and swallowed back the lump in his throat. “I-I’m sorry,” he stammered. “About our fight a couple days ago, and our fight during practice yesterday… I’m just… a fucking mess right now, a-and I’m trying to get better, but I need you. I need you to be patient with me, Bri. I just… need time to get my head together.”

The guitarist looked surprised now and he shook his head. He reached out and gently grabbed Roger’s hand before pulling him closer to him.

“It’s okay, Roger… you aren’t the one who needs to apologize, it’s me… so _I’m_ sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t very understanding about your new job, and why you need it. I’m sorry that I got upset at you yesterday during practice. I should be better about your blackouts, more understanding about them, forgiving. I know you can’t help them when they happen,” Brian gently kissed Roger’s forehead.

The drummer relaxed now and let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He let himself melt into the other man’s body and hugged him tightly. He breathed him in. “I’m trying to do something about them, the blackouts. Ollie’s helping me.”

Brian smiled now and nodded. “That’s great, love. I’m so glad. Do you know why you’re having the blackouts?”

Roger shrugged and sighed, pulling away from him but still stayed close to him. “Ollie thinks it’s because of trauma, I suppose… between my father and Liam, it’s been leading to anxiety and stress and my head just can’t handle it all so… I black out. He’s told me something I can do the next time I feel one coming on, so I’m going to try that the next time I’m either at home or work.”

“Oh, that’s good. How do you know when they’re about to happen, though? I thought that they just… happen?” Brian turned around when he heard the kettle screaming and poured hot water in two mugs over teabags and set it down before turning back to the blonde.

Roger smirked slightly. “I guess I didn’t realize it, but I’ve been getting headaches right before the blackouts. They don’t feel like headaches I’ve gotten before. I can’t explain it, but they just feel different, but they happen right before the blackouts.”

Brian listened patiently, taking all this information in, nodding in acknowledgement. “Do you want to talk about your session with Ollie or do you just want to leave it? I’m… willing to listen if you would like to talk. I know we’ve had a rough few days, but… I’m here for you now.”

The younger man nodded, smiling as he moved closer towards his cup of tea and took it into his hands, mostly just to have something warm to touch.

“I appreciate that, Bri. I do, but… there isn’t much to tell, to be honest. I just… am going to try to work through things, and Ollie’s helping. That’s about all there is to tell, you know?” Roger took a sip.

Brian nodded and kissed Roger’s temple before he took a sip of his own tea. “All right, then. I’m here if you need help.”

Roger nodded, quiet for a few minutes. “What did you want to do today?”

“Hmm… I believe Freddie wanted to treat us to a night out later. Do you have to work today, Rog?” He gently guided the drummer out of the kitchen and into the living room before he sat down and turned the television on.

“Yeah, I told someone else I’d take over their shift for them today for extra money, so I have to head over around noon, and I get out at seven,” Roger made himself comfortable on the couch beside his boyfriend. “We still have a couple hours more together, at least.”

Brian nodded and then smiled to himself. “I miss you, when you’re at work…”

Roger glanced over at him. “I know, I miss you too… but I need this.”

The guitarist set his tea down and put his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know you do. It’s perfectly fine, love. I’m not about to say anything else against it anymore. I know this job means a lot to you.”

That was an understatement, as far as Roger was concerned. He didn’t want to be at the risk of sounding dramatic, but this job was a fucking _life raft._ He needed this job to keep him afloat mentally, and not just because he got away from his boyfriend for a few hours.

He needed this job as a distraction, so he didn’t have time to lay around for hours on end, thinking about every fucked up thing that his father did, or thing that had been done to Roger by other people.

Like Liam.

Like James.

The thought of all three men made Roger’s lungs start to deflate in panic. He had to take a breath to calm himself again.

_Shit._

Roger just nodded, feeling an ache at his temple forming. It was about to happen again. Even just thinking about those bastards made his body go into blackout mode. He remembered now what Ollie had told him to do when he felt the headaches coming on.

He moved towards the sink and splashed some cold water on his face and neck to help him stay grounded and in the moment. Roger took a deep breath and then let it out before he looked over to Brian who was looking slightly concerned and took a step towards the drummer.

“Are you all right? Are you having the headache right now?”

Roger nodded, trying to remain calm but he could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage hard. As he breathed and stayed in the moment, he could feel the headache beginning to disappear; it was the oddest sensation.

Brian’s wide eyes told him he was starting to panic just watching Roger. “W-What can I do, Rog? How can I help?”

The blonde shook his head, feeling himself start to come back from the edge of the blackout. “I-I’m okay. I’m all right, I think. My headache’s going away now.”

“Are you sure?”

Roger gave a weak chuckle now, still running cold water over his face and neck a second time just for good measure. “I think I know my body, Bri.  I can tell when headaches are going away.”

Brian just nodded and relaxed a bit but still watched him with cautious eyes. He leaned against the counter, watching Roger, nervously tucking a few locks of curls behind his ears and out of his face before folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Is that what Ollie told you to do when you feel the headaches coming on?”

“Yeah,” Roger nodded, drying his face with a paper towel before he went back to his tea that was now lukewarm. “He basically told me it would help ground me a bit and I hate to admit it, but I think he was right.”

“Why do you think it was about to come on like that?” Brian’s tone was still laced with concern, but his questions were more curious now than anything.

_Great, now he would have to admit what he had been thinking about during their conversation a few minutes ago._

Roger chewed on his lip before he shrugged. “I was thinking about… _them_ , and how the job was going to be a good distraction for me and help me stop thinking about those wankers so much.”

He saw Brian nod and was grateful he didn’t need to say their names aloud. It’d probably just trigger another one. “I know it’s supposed to be a distraction, Roger, but… if you’ve been getting the blackouts at work, it sort of defeats the purpose of getting a job, doesn’t it?”

Roger felt anger turning the blood in his veins to ice. He tried to breathe through his nose but he still felt the anger. He slammed his tea down and turned on Brian.

“Why are you doing that?” He demanded now.

Brian looked taken aback. “Doing what?”

“You’re shitting on me getting this job! This is at least the hundredth time you’ve talked shit about it. It’s going to distract me, even if it’s not right away! It doesn’t help that everyone and everything reminds me of them,” Roger growled. “You always do that!”

Brian sighed and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Roger… just try and calm down, yeah? I’m sorry. It was stupid of me… I was just asking a question. I didn’t mean to offend, I promise. I wasn’t thinking, but that’s my fault, not yours.”

Roger looked at him and tried to calm down again. He breathed some more before he rubbed his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Let’s just… leave it at that on… that topic. Let’s enjoy our last hour together before I have to leave.”

“Right, okay. What shall we do?”

Roger finished his tea and put his teacup in the sink. He looked at him and moved closer, wanting to change the atmosphere between them; he didn’t want to leave their relationship like this before he went to work. He gently grabbed Brian’s hands and led him into the bedroom.

The guitarist looked surprised but let the drummer pull him inside and closed the door before lighting a candle and putting some music on. Roger pulled Brian on the bed and the two men started to kiss.

Roger felt Brian’s hands caress his sides, and then felt him deepen the kiss, letting his tongue dance over his. The drummer could feel himself becoming warmer and then felt Brian’s hand slide under his shirt before suddenly moving to his belt.

Something blew up inside of Roger, like a grenade, and he felt like he could literally _feel_ the shrapnel tearing at every nerve inside of him. His mind went straight to James, and he felt the hard slap from the last time he had seen him all over again.

Roger let out a gasp and then started clawing furiously at Brian’s hands and arms to get away from him, his brain not letting him use his legs. The idea to physically _move_ didn’t even occur to Roger; instead of flight, fight had kicked into overdrive and he tore at Brian’s skin, scratching him until he felt the warm blood under his nails.

A part of him heard Brian cry out in pain and then felt two hands on his wrists, holding him down. He was breathing hard as he tried to struggle out of the grasp but to no avail.

At first he thought it was Brian holding him down but when he blinked, he saw Brian standing near the door with blood trailing down his arm and John near him, guiding him out of the bedroom, and he saw Freddie holding him steady now.

“Roger, darling! It’s just me… it’s just Freddie, dear! Come back to me, now… come back,” the singer pleaded softly.

The drummer’s head was spinning and before he realized it, he was sobbing. “L-Let me go… p-please…”

Freddie slowly released his hold on Roger, and then moved next to him on the bed before he wrapped an arm around Roger. The blonde started crying into him, feeling scared and worried.

“W-What happened…? What happened, F-Fred? What did I-I do?”

“There, there, darling,” Freddie spoke gently, gently rubbing Roger’s back. “It will all be all right. John’s going to clean Brian up and he’s going to be just fine. Go ahead and cry it out and then we can talk it out together…”

Roger took him up on the offer and literally sobbed on the singer’s shoulder, holding him tightly to him. Freddie gently caressed his back as he hummed softly to him. Once he felt like he was all cried out, he sniffed and sat up, wiping away his tears on his sleeve and looked down at his hands that still had dried blood under his nails.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Rog?” Freddie asked patiently.

The drummer took a moment to think and blushed a little bit. “B-Brian and I were making out, here on the bed, and… he touched me under my shirt before he moved a hand to my belt. I don’t remember what I did after that… fuck, Freddie… he’s going to be so angry. Fuck, what the hell did I do to him?”

The singer took Roger’s hands in his own and held them. “Roger, darling, it isn’t your fault. Brian should have known better than to try any of that with you so soon after what happened to you. It was downright silly of him to even do it! Your body reacted the way it should have for someone in your situation. He’s not going to be angry; I promise you that… especially not if John or I have anything to say about it.”

Roger wasn’t fully convinced but Freddie’s words were still somewhat reassuring. He was quiet for a long time, trying to collect his thoughts and then remembered something.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit… what time i-is it?” Roger glanced over at the clock and saw it was almost noon. “I h-have to go… I have to go to my job.”

“What?” Freddie let out a laugh of disbelief, as if Roger was making a joke. “You must be joking, darling! You’re not going to work in the state of mind you’re in right now. You must stay home and we can all talk about this…”

“No,” Roger said shaking his head. Talking about his problems was not something that Roger did, at least not with Freddie or John or Brian. He moved off the bed and went to the sink in the kitchen and started to wash his hands. “I can’t. I have to go work, Fred.”

The singer followed his every step, shaking his head. “No, Rog. I’m sorry but I simply won’t allow it. You have to call in sick. You just hurt Brian, albeit it was unintentional, of course, but it was an incident that happened between us, and we need to talk about it!”

Roger heard more footsteps and saw John and Brian both come out, Brian’s arm wrapped up in gauze bandage from forearm to wrist. Seeing the damage he had inflicted on his boyfriend made the guilt seep up again and put him in flight mode now. He couldn’t stay here; he was just a danger to him.

“He’s still planning on going to work! Can you simply believe this? Make him stay home, Brian. We need to discuss this!”

Brian looked at Roger, who was doing everything he could to avoid his gaze out of shame. The guitarist shook his head and sighed softly. “Let him go. It’ll give him time to cool off a bit.”

It was John’s turn to speak up now, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. “You can’t be serious, Brian. From what Freddie and you told me, it sounds like Roger just had a post traumatic experience! I think he needs our help right now. You really think him going to work is the best thing for him right now?”

Roger felt so out of it and so full of shame and embarrassment that he didn’t even care about them talking about him as if he weren’t even in the same room as them.

Brian’s eyes surveyed Roger for a few moments and then looked at John. “Forcing him to stay here with us isn’t going to help him. Let him get some fresh air and time to pull himself together. It wasn’t his fault anyway… it was mine. Just let him go, and for that matter, if you could take Freddie and leave the room, I’d appreciate it, yeah?”

John looked disappointed but nodded anyway and took Freddie’s hand before leading him towards their room.

Roger looked up and saw Brian taking a step towards him, his brows knitted in worry now. “Hey, I won’t touch you again like that without your permission first, okay? I’m sorry, Roger… I know I seem to be saying that a lot, but… I mean it, every time I say it. I just keep fucking up right and left, but I promise I really am trying.”

Roger nodded, still avoiding his gaze. He didn’t deserve to look at the man he had loved and hurt. What made him any better than his father now? He swallowed hard, feeling nausea building up inside of him.

“Listen to me, love. If you don’t feel like you can walk back here after work, call me and I’ll come and get you, okay? I don’t care that it’s only five minutes away. Just… don’t run off anywhere else, okay? I know you’re scared and confused and upset, and we’ll talk about it later when you get back.”

Roger nodded, already dreading that conversation. “W-What about the night out Freddie has planned?”

“Screw the night out. Freddie and John can just go by themselves. I think it’s important we talk about what happened, and we can work out a plan, but I know you need work. I’ll let you go be distracted for a few hours, but then we’re talking out the problem later,”

Roger nodded and then moved over and grabbed his jacket and put it on before putting on his shoes.

“Hey, Rog?”

The drummer stopped and turned around.

“I love you.”

The drummer nodded and took a deep breath. “I love you too.” The words came out more as a reassurance than a simple statement.

He needed Brian to know that he really did love him, even though he had just hurt him. Then again, wasn’t that a tactic that domestic abusers often did too?

_Fuck._

He saw Brian nod and give a weak smile before Roger walked out of the door of the flat, start towards the café on the corner. Roger felt like _he_ was the one screwing up right and left. He felt like this whole relationship had been a land mined filled nightmare since it started, because of Roger.

Once Roger arrived at the café and the smell of coffee filled his nostrils, he felt his body relax a little and he started to fill orders, letting his mind focus on what he needed to get done right now, in this moment, and not let himself think about what would be talked about later.

It was a distraction, at least for now.


	28. blackout #3, 4, or 5?

**.    .    .**

Roger went to work for the next few days without an issue.

He was about five hours into his work shift the last day this week when his thoughts had started to trail back to Brian. He had physically hurt him, and that was probably one of the worst things someone could possibly do to the person they loved. In hindsight, he knew now that he should’ve stayed home and talked to Brian about what happened.

He didn’t even know all the thoughts that were going through his head when Roger had hurt him. What must Brian had thought when he had scratched him up like that? _Did_ he realize what he had done?

“Oi, are you new or somethin’? I ordered three teas about ten minutes ago!”

Roger glanced over at the middle-aged man who was looking rather impatient. He didn’t want to say that _yes, he was indeed new_ , of course. Instead he quickly put together the teas and handed them off to the bloke before mumbling an apology. The man just shook his head before taking the teas and leaving the café, another customer taking his place as they also waited for their drink.

Roger ran his hands through his hair, trying to stay calm and ignore the tightness in his chest. He was starting to become overwhelmed, starting to panic. He quickly made up the woman’s order before handing it off to her and then walked past his supervisor.

“I’m taking my half hour break,” he announced before quickly heading into the bathroom and leaning his arms against the sink, feeling dizziness take over his body.

_Fuck._

_Fuck._

_Fuck!_

Roger stared to hyperventilate, his head spinning as the air went out of his lungs. Maybe Brian was right; maybe this job was too much for him to handle right now. He couldn’t do this.

He couldn’t do this.

He was an idiot to think that he could in the first place.

Roger felt his legs turn to jelly and he slid down onto the floor. He couldn’t be seen like this though, not by his supervisor, or the other employees, or customers. It was fucking embarrassing.

Roger quickly crawled to the farthest stall and locked himself in before he gasped for breaths. He had to close his eyes as the room spun around him; it was making him feel nauseous. He couldn’t stay in the loos having a panic attack.

He needed to fix himself.

Roger looked up and took a shaky breath before he inhaled through his nose, held it for a few seconds and let it out. He did this again, and again, and then again until he felt his lungs re-inflate again and he wasn’t so dizzy. He looked over at the clock and realized his break was already almost up. He had just enough time for a cigarette break, though.

He forced himself up off the floor, splashed cool water on his face and then walked out of the bathrooms before making a beeline for the side door that led outside where he could smoke in peace for his last five minutes.

He placed the fag between his lips before he lit it. He hadn’t taken his first drag off of it before he suddenly felt himself be knocked down from behind. Roger felt himself fall to the ground and quickly turned around to see James taking the cigarette from the ground and then grabbed the drummer’s arm.

“Roger, Roger, Roger… you think you can escape me? Did you really think that would be the end of us? Silly, boy. You really must be the thick one of the group.”

Roger was struggling as hard as he could, knowing exactly what this psychopath was going to do with the cigarette and his bare skin; it was what his father had done to him once before. He fought like hell, but then he felt James hit the side of his head and he groaned in pain, the world spinning around him once more, dulling his fight.

The pain of the hot ash meeting his skin was what woke him up and he let out a scream of agony, his body jolting in reaction.

“Fuck off! S-Stop!” He yelled, perhaps hoping someone would hear his pleas and might intervene, but no one came.

“Stop? I didn’t hear that the night of our wonderful introduction with each other. Face it, Rog… I know your body better than your little boy toy does. You’re not one to make the first move, so I’m guessing you two still haven’t had sex yet. I’m so glad I could be your first,” James drawled.

Roger felt like he was going to be sick. He only just realized at this point, however, that he had a throbbing headache, and before he could do anything, he felt himself black out.

  
**……….. … …….**

**  
** When Roger woke up, the sun was already setting, and it was raining. He looked around quickly but didn’t see any sign of James.

Then he looked down at his hands and saw blood and scrapes on his both his hands on his knuckles. Roger was starting to feel the pain in his hands and suddenly felt terrified.

_Where the hell was James?_

_And what had Roger done to him?_

He felt hot tears in his eyes and looked down at the cigarette burn on his arm. _At least that had been real._  Roger tried to open the door to go back inside the café but there was no give to it like there usually was. He tried again and was met with the same result.

 _Bastards._ Someone had locked him out… probably thinking that Roger had just bailed on his shift. He walked around front and saw only one of the fellow employee inside. He knocked on the door, just wanting to get out of the pouring rain, but the employee gave him the middle finger before he shrugged, pretending not to know what was wrong with the door. It was evident that there were no more customers and he was just dicking around on his shift so he closed up early.

He kicked the door angrily before he started to trudge down the road to his flat. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling fucking petrified and confused. Roger didn’t stop walking until he used his key and opened the door.

“Roger! Thank god!”

“Oh my god, Roger… _where on earth_ were you, darling?”

“We’re so glad you’re back –ʺ

John had stopped halfway through his sentence when he realized that Roger Taylor was very much not safe. Something had happened to him, and it hadn’t been good. He looked over at Freddie worriedly.

Brian hurried over to Roger and looked frazzled, unsure where to start with the drummer. He took his face in his hands, but the blonde reacted instinctively, taking several steps back and letting out a whimper, his eyes wide.

Brian put his hands up now, to show that he meant Roger no harm. “Hey… love, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, yeah? I’m just… very concerned about you right now.” He took a step closer to Roger and tried to meet his eyes. “Roger, you’re scaring me, love. Do you know where you are right now?”

The blonde nodded, his arms still hugging himself. “H-Home…”

“Good,” Brian nodded, realizing just how delicate of shape Roger was in right now. “Rog, will you… come with me into the bathroom for a minute? I just want to clean you up. Is that all right?”

Roger bit his lip before he looked down at his bloody knuckles and nodded. Brian moved closer to him and gently placed a hand on the middle of his boyfriend’s back and guided him towards the bathroom before he started to close the bathroom door when Roger let out a gasp.

“L-Leave it open…”

The distrust hurt Brian slightly, but he knew he couldn’t blame Roger. If the tables were turned, he figured maybe he wouldn’t fully trust him either after what happened earlier. He nodded and left the door open halfway.

“Okay, can you… come to the sink and wash your hands? We need to wash the blood off.”

Roger nodded and slowly walked over to the sink before he put his hands under the tap and felt the cool water touch his wounds when Brian turned the tap on. He hissed in pain but then forced himself to keep his hands under the water, watching red run down the sink. He hesitantly took a little bit of soap and caressed each knuckle with it before he rinsed it off under the tap again.

“Good, sit down, love,” when Roger obeyed silently, Brian came over with antiseptic and gauze, kneeling down in front of the drummer, he looked up at him worriedly. “Roger, can you tell me what happened? You were supposed to be home hours ago.”

“I-I… I blacked out,” he whispered, looking down as the older man wrapped his hands up in gauze like a mummy.

“Yes, Rog, I’ve gathered that,” he spoke not unkindly. “Umm… what’s the last thing you remember?”

The blonde tried to think back, and he swallowed hard. He was quiet for several moments, but Brian didn’t rush him. “J-James. He…” his voice trailed off and he lifted up his arm, showing the other man the cigarette burn.

Brian gently took his arm in his hand, examining the burn and then put antiseptic cream on it before placing a bandage on it so it wouldn’t get infected. “Jesus…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “He did this when you were at work?”

Roger nodded; his brows still knitted together in confusion as he tried to piece together everything. “W-When I was on break. I went out for a smoke… and h-he jumped me.”

The guitarist looked his boyfriend up and down, looking for any other injuries he might have suffered by James’ hand, but he looked all right otherwise, besides appearing very shaken up. He gently took Roger’s hands in his own and soothingly rubbed the unharmed skin there. He searched the drummer’s scared eyes, thinking the worst, but it was Roger who said the thought that had crossed his mind.

“I-I don’t… even remember what I did to him, Bri. What if… what if I… k-killed him?” his voice trembled. “O-Oh fuck… oh g-god!”

Brian tensed slightly and as an afterthought, he started to go through Roger’s pockets on his jeans but relaxed a bit when he came up empty. “You didn’t bring your knife to work, and from the looks of your knuckles, you only used your hands to hurt him, most likely.”

“Most likely? W-What if I _did_ bring my knife and stuck it in him and he’s just… w-walking around with my knife stuck in his ribs?” Roger rubbed his eyes before he ran his hands through his hair in distress.

Brian stayed calm and opened the bathroom door again. “Come on, love. Let’s go into our room for a minute.”

The blonde looked skeptical, but he led them into their room, and he walked over to his side of the bed where his pocketknife still lay on the beside table where he had left it last. He seemed to relax again, and he looked at Brian.

“See?” Brian asked rhetorically. “You didn’t even take it with you. Good news is that it looks like you didn’t hit him too hard; your hand wasn’t broken or anything… you’ll just have bruises on them for a bit.”

Roger nodded and sighed, looking back down at his hands. He was quiet for a long time. “I b-blacked out for _hours_ , Brian,” he whispered helplessly. “I can’t even remember what he said or what I did! This is the jail incident all over again! _Christ_ , Brian… what if he had to go to hospital again?”

It was a thought that Brian didn’t like to imagine, not because James didn’t deserve it, but because he was more concerned about the bastard pressing charges against Roger for assault; he didn’t need Roger in trouble or landing in jail again.

“I don’t believe that’s the case this time, but if it is, then we’ll handle it as it happens. Let’s just… focus on you right now, love, yeah?” Brian turned to the drummer who nodded weakly but still looked confused and apprehensive. “Right, do you want me to call Ollie so you can talk to him, or would you just like to have some tea and I can call him and tell him to make a trip over here tomorrow for you?”

Roger sighed and bit his lip, honestly not particularly wanting to talk to Ollie at all, but maybe he needed to. He gave a shrug. “Tea now, Ollie tomorrow…”

“Right, you can go out hang out with Freddie and John in the living room, I’ll start the kettle and then I’ll call him. Sound okay?”

Roger nodded sheepishly, feeling like a burden. “T-Thank you, Bri,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

Brian smiled lovingly down at him and kissed his tuft of hair. “Of course, love.”

Roger moved around him and headed into the living room where both men were sitting anxiously, staring towards the bedroom he came out of. He gave them a weak smile but inside he was feeling lost. He didn’t say anything as he sunk onto the couch beside John and pulled his legs into his body.

“Possibly a silly question, but… all right?” John asked timidly, searching Roger’s face.

The blonde nodded despite himself, not feeling up to going into details he didn’t know or try to answer questions that he didn’t have the answers to.

“It will be all right, darling,” Freddie spoke surely. “We’re all here for you. You’re not alone, Roger, even when you do get yourself into trouble, dear.”

“Thanks, Fred,” Roger said sincerely before he sighed tiredly, exhaustion starting to take over his body now that the adrenaline he apparently had felt earlier was gone.

The singer gave him a soft smile and then walked into the kitchen where Brian was, supposedly to talk to him. John looked at Roger and bit his lip.

“Might I… err… I mean, is it okay if I… hug you?”

The question of consent came to such a surprise to Roger that he almost forgot what John had even asked to do in the first place. He blinked and then nodded, welcoming the gesture. John smiled warmly now as he leaned in and wrapped his arms around Roger’s neck.

He couldn’t help but smile as the bassist did this, feeling an overwhelming mix of comfort and safety. He hesitantly wrapped his own arms around the smaller man in a hug, inhaling him as they embraced. Neither man said anything for several moments, both men just enjoying the moment of closeness that they had missed since John had had the outburst when Roger had tried to kill himself.

“I’m so sorry,” John whispered to them as they parted. “About how I was, that day. I was a prick, and you were going through enough without me adding all that shit on top of it.”

Roger shook his head and smiled weakly. “Don’t worry about it, Deaky… but, thanks.”

John nodded and went back to sitting next to him but now they were sitting closer than before, and Roger even held his hand as he watched the program on the telly. Despite everything that had happened earlier, the events that he didn’t hardly even knew about, he felt safe now. He felt _sure._

His name was Roger Taylor.

He was in a band where he was a drummer, and a backup vocalist.

He shared a flat with Freddie Mercury, Brian May, and John Deacon, and he was safe right now.

Brian came over with a tray of cups of tea for all of them and placed it on the coffee table before he handed two cups to John and Roger who looked too comfortable to move, giving the drummer a loving smile as he handed his cup to him. Then he sat in an oversized chair with his own mug of tea as Freddie sat by the piano with his own tea, writing notes on music sheets, occasionally playing keys.

The other three men watching television sipped their tea, a calmness falling over them after the chaos that had befallen Roger earlier, John and Brian chatting congenially once in a while as Roger started to grow tired.

He lay himself out on the couch, so his head was in John’s lap. When there was a break in conversation, he caught the older man’s eye.

“Did you call him? Was he okay about coming tomorrow?” Roger asked sleepily.

Brian nodded. “Yes, he’s perfectly all right about coming tomorrow to chat with you. He thought it was a good idea, given the circumstances. Go ahead and sleep, love. I’ll carry you to bed a bit later if you don’t wake up before then.”

Roger didn’t need to be told twice. He hugged John’s leg and curled into himself. He gave a yawn and soon fell asleep to the voices of the two men he loved the most.


	29. this war of mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I've been AWOL for awhile. I have an upper respiratory infection so this chapter probably wasn't the best. Thank you to those who are still around and still comment! You guys give me life.

**.    .    .**

Roger had already gone through several cigarettes since Ollie had gotten here and sat down in the bedroom with him, but the practicing psychiatrist sat patiently, occasionally smoking one of his own cigarettes as well, but nowhere near as many as Roger already had.

Finally, he spoke up. “Roger, it’s been about an hour and a half and you haven’t said anything since you greeted me earlier. Even if it’s small, or obvious, I think you should say _something,_ just a jumping off point for us, yeah?”

Roger nodded and cleared his throat before he exhaled smoke and put his cigarette out, leaning back in his chair. “I… I was attacked yesterday.”

Ollie nodded but gave Roger a sympathetic smile. “Right, Brian told me as much. When you say ‘attacked’ though, do you mean… raped like before or punches?”

“He jumped me, and then put my cigarette out on my arm,” he eyed the bandage on his arm that Brian had insisted on changing as not to get it infected.

Ollie nodded, writing this down before looking back up at the drummer. “And then what happened, Roger?”

The blonde shrugged, looking anywhere except at the other man. “I don’t know. I-I blacked out, I suppose. I woke up, hours later, and he was gone. My hands hurt; my knuckles were bloody and now they’re bruised. I don’t know what I did to him.”

Ollie nodded, still patient. “You look scared, Roger. What are you thinking right now?”

The drummer shook his head, scolding his eyes for giving himself away. He looked down at his bandaged hands and coughed softly, shrugging again. “Umm… I’m scared I might have… you know?”

“I do know, but… I would like you to say your fears aloud, Roger,” he urged kindly.

He sighed heavily before he ran his hands through his hair. “I-I’m scared that I bloody killed him, all right? Is that what you wanted me to say? _Jesus Christ_ … what if he’s lying dead in an alleyway somewhere? What i-if… what if people are looking for him? What if he’s just… fucking d-dead? I don’t want t-to go to jail… o-oh god…”

He had his face in his hands down, feeling his eyes fill up with tears as his chest filled with panic. Ollie leaned forward as well and placed a gentle hand on Roger’s shoulder.

“Roger, I don’t believe he’s ‘lying dead somewhere.’ I believe he’s still alive.”

The blonde shook his head. “Y-You don’t know that,” he swallowed hard, still avoiding looking at him. “What if this i-is just a repeat of Liam? I sent him to the bloody hospital!”

Ollie gave his shoulder a light squeeze. “How much blood was there when you woke up?”

Roger shook his head and shrugged. “N-Not a lot, most of it was on my h-hands. I-I can’t remember what happened!”

“Take a deep breath, Roger. It’s going to be all right. Let’s just go through this step by step and break everything down. You woke up, with blood on your hands. Your knuckles were bloody, they hurt, and now they’re bruised. What do you think, as a biologist major, with a minor in health and first aid care, would be your conclusion from that?”

Roger leaned back, starting to calm down as Ollie forced him to think. “I-I punched him. We got into a fight, and I hit him. I don’t have anything broken, though, which means… I might not have hurt him very badly?”

Ollie nodded. “That would be my conclusion as well, Roger. You broke things in your fight with Liam, enough to send him to the hospital, yeah? So perhaps this fight with James was not as severe as you believe it is. Also, you mentioned there was not a large amount of blood anywhere when you woke up, which means…” he trailed off, looking at Roger.

The drummer took another deep breath, looking around the room. “I didn’t have my knife with me, so… I didn’t stab him with i-it.”

“That’s right, Roger. You didn’t hurt him very seriously. I’m sure he’s alive, and he might have bruises but he’s going to live. You aren’t going to be in trouble. You seem upset at the fact that you might have hurt him. You’re feeling empathy for someone who raped you and hurt you. Do you know why?”

Roger hadn’t thought about himself feeling empathy for his attacker before, but now that Ollie brought it up, it made him feel angry at himself. He should _hate_ James. He should want to kill him.

“You feel it because you feel as if you deserved what he did to you, and what Liam did to you, by scaring you like he did, and the abuse your father brought on you. I’m not saying you shouldn’t feel bad for your actions, but you blacked out in this case; you weren’t fully conscious or mentally aware what you were doing,” Ollie reasoned.

Roger nodded, taking all of this in. “So how do I stop feeling sorry for the bastards that hurt me?”

“You focus more on the ones that love you, Roger. Focus on the people that make you feel worthy, make you feel special, and the ones that make you feel glad to be alive.”

The drummer took another breath and nodded. “I-I need to stop blacking out. I don’t think I even felt the headache this time. I saw James, and it happened so fast.”

Ollie started to pack up his papers but made sure his eyes were on Roger, smiling politely. “Blackouts happen because of trauma. It’s going to take a while before you will feel stronger mentally, able to overcome them, but… you just need to give yourself some time. Don’t push yourself too hard and try and not to punish yourself when you _do_ have a blackout. Sit down with someone, and talk it all out, sort of work it with your fingers, so to speak.”

“All right,” Roger nodded, but not feeling fully comforted. He might have these blackouts his whole life.

“Call me whenever, Roger,” Ollie walked over to him. “I mean it. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful, but I think we still have some work to do together.”

The other man nodded gratefully and shook his hand. “No, I know. It’s… it’s fine. I don’t really want to think about this anymore today. Thanks for coming, mate.”

“Of course.”

Roger walked him to the door and closed it behind him when he had left. He turned around and didn’t see the other men but then heard a guitar playing in another room. He walked over and opened the door to see the men practicing.

They stopped when they saw him walk in. Freddie bounced over to him.

“How are you feeling, darling? Any better?”

The younger man shrugged dismissively before he changed the subject. “What is this, Freddie? Practicing without me?”

“We only just started, dear.  Would you like to get behind your drums and join us? Do you feel up to it?”

To be honest, Roger didn’t feel up to anything right now. His mind just kept rolling back to yesterdays’ events; he couldn’t get it out of his head. He needed to do something though. Going back to bed was tempting, but he wanted to be around John and Brian.

He looked over at the guitarist who gave him a loving smile, and then nodded to Freddie. “Yeah, sure. What song are we doing?”

“I figured we’d practice on a faster paced one, ‘Stone Cold Crazy.’ It’s a pretty short one that we can practice quite a few times in a row,” Fred answered before he walked back over to his mic.

As he walked towards his drum kit, John gave him a soft pat on the back encouragingly before he glanced over at Brian who gave him a nod.

Roger grabbed his drumsticks and winced slightly, realizing now that playing might be a problem for him; his fingers felt tight as he held them, and he could feel the bruises on his knuckles as the skin tightened when he closed his fists.

Wincing slightly, he glanced up and noticed everyone staring at him, concern laced in their eyes. “I’m fine,” he assured them. “Let’s just play.”

The three men exchanged unsure looks at each other before Roger started the drum intro. Brian was late coming in, but then the band caught up to each other and Freddie started singing. Even though the song was only two minutes and twenty seconds, it was the longest two minutes and twenty seconds of Roger’s life once they finished the song; his hands ached, but he refused to stop practicing.

They ran through it several more times until they were all on key with each other and they were smooth.

“All right, gentlemen,” Brian finally spoke up, setting his guitar down gently. “I’m calling it. I think it sounds pretty good. Let’s get some dinner, yeah?”

“Dinner sounds lovely,” Freddie agreed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “What shall we do? Curry? Chinese?”

“I vote for Chinese,” Brian interjected, glancing back at Roger. “What do you want, love?”

The drummer shrugged. “I’m not really feeling all that hungry. I can eat something later.”

“You will do no such thing!” Freddie shook his head. “We know you’ve been going through a lot lately, but we’re here for you, and we’re not letting you out of our sight again, darling. You need to eat something, Rog. It won’t help things to starve yourself.”

“Freddie’s right, Roger,” John agreed. “How about… the three of us get a variety of things to eat, and you can pick and choose what you feel like eating?”

Brian gave the bassist a grateful smile before he looked back at Roger.

The blonde shrugged, but then nodding, deciding that that might work for him. He wouldn’t be overwhelmed with food and he could choose what he felt like eating instead of feeling obligated to eat his own meal.

“Wonderful, we’ll have leftovers for days as well, so that will be nice! I’ll go out and pick up a little of everything.”

Brian cleared his throat nervously. “Freddie, you can’t drive. I’ll drive you,” he wiped his own forehead and put his jacket on before turning back to John and Roger who had followed the two men into the living room. “Lock the door behind us, yeah?”

John nodded and gave a smile. “Don’t worry… we’ll be okay.”

“I know,” Brian smiled back, but there was anxiety in his tone. “Back soon.” Roger watched him grab his van keys and led Freddie out of the flat.

John locked the door obediently behind them and then turned back to Roger, chuckling as he used his shirt to wipe sweat from his own face. “I’m a mess. Want to go shower?”

Roger nodded, feeling at ease at the prospect of showering with John. They headed into the bathroom and got undressed before slipping into the cool shower. Roger felt like he should be uncomfortable, but his mind was letting him enjoy this moment with the younger man, and he was going to embrace every second of it.

“Got enough room?” John asked as he let Roger have the water first to wet himself down as he grabbed the hair wash and started to massage it into the drummer’s blonde locks.

“Yeah, do you, Deaky? This shower really wasn’t built more than one bloke. It’s like they never even thought about shower sex!”

This made John giggle and he started to wash his own hair now. “Pretty sure no one thinks about what might happen in the shower when they build it… it’s built for function and practicality, not recreation, Rog.”

The drummer shrugged, smirking. “I guess, but all I’m saying is maybe they should start thinking about the recreation part. Anyway, sex is totally practical!”

John rinsed off and let Roger do the same before he looked at him. “How are you doing with that, Rog?” He almost whispered. “The idea of sex, I mean. Not that I’m rushing you to have it with me or Brian, of course. I just mean… I don’t know. I’m just… curious how you feel about it now, I suppose. I’m sorry – just ignore me. I’m just being an idiot.”

Roger chuckled and shook his head, taking a step towards John who looked like a wet cat now, his hair sticking to his face in long threads.

“You’re not an idiot, Deaks. I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest. I mean, I’m not sure I want to have sex right now, but I feel like I might want to do it again in the future, with both of you,” Roger replied honestly.

“There’s no rush,” John repeated quickly. “You take as much time as you need.”

“I _know_ ,” Roger playfully groaned before he started to lather John’s body up with soap. “Don’t worry, John… I don’t feel pressured by you or anything.”

“Good,” the younger man smiled, before he looked down the body wash in his own hands and hesitantly looked at Roger. “D-Do you… mind if I…?”

It was true that no other hands had touched his bare skin since the night of his rape, and this thought also made him look back at John with apprehensiveness at first, but then he nodded. “Y-Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. I’m all right.”

John nodded and started to caress Roger’s chest with the soap, lathering up his neck and shoulders, arms, and down to his waist. He glanced up to see the other man’s reaction to the intimate touch, which seemed neutral. He didn’t speak for several minutes as John lathered his body up.

“Still good?”

Roger nodded and gave a small smile. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling because he felt like his fight or flight was kicking in at the moment, and he was forcing himself to plant his feet down and not run off, which he wasn’t sure he liked; he didn’t want to feel like this with John.

_Not John._

_Not Deaky._

_Little Deaky._

He knew that the bassist would never hurt him like James had. Roger _knew_ it. It was a fact, but his stupid fucking mind was telling him that he _might._

He let John finish and then quickly moved into the water to rinse off before he moved out of the way and let him rinse off too. When they were done, Roger practically leaped out of the shower to start drying himself off but he had the decency to hand John a towel when he did.

“Roger, are you okay?”

He looked anywhere but at John as he dried his skin off and towel dried his hair with it. “Yeah, of course. Are _you_ all right, Deaky?”

The bassist searched his face and wrapped the towel around his waist before he walked towards Roger and stood in front of him. “Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me, love.”

Roger took a sharp breath and let it out shakily, looking away now after tying his own towel around his waist. He threw his arms up. “I don’t know. I was fine… before.”

“Before… I touched you?”

Roger sighed, feeling frustration. “Well, when you were doing my hair, I was fine. It was just when you went to wash the rest of me when I started feeling… nervous.”

“Roger, I would never hurt you,” he echoed the drummer’s thoughts. “I swear…”

The other man crossed his arms in front of his chest, digging his nails into his shoulders. He wasn’t upset at John; not in the least. He was upset at himself. Everything had been wonderful a few minutes ago in the shower, and the first gentle hand John lays on him made something snap inside of the drummer’s head.

And just like that, everything wasn’t wonderful anymore.

“I-I know, Deaky… I know,” he nodded reassuringly at him. He felt so fucking embarrassed at his body’s reaction at John’s touch, and he could tell the younger man was feeling hurt. He slid past John, placing a light hand on John’s shoulder before he gave him a soft squeeze and a weak smile. “No worries, love. I’m just… I’m sorry. I-It’s on me, yeah? It’s nothing you did. I’m going to go get dressed before they get back home.”

John nodded and Roger didn’t give him time to say anything as he hurried to the room he still shared with Brian mostly. He closed the door and took a deep breath before he let it out and lit a cigarette just as the front door opened.

He was in the middle of getting his pajama bottoms on when he heard a knock and then saw Brian open the door and let himself in quickly before closing the door again.

“Hey…” he eyed the fag dangling out of Roger’s mouth and searched his face. “Everything all right, love?”

He could keep the truth from John, but not from Brian. He had to tell him, get all his crazy thoughts out of his head. Roger sighed and took a drag from the cigarette before he exhaled it and then turned to look at the guitarist.

“Rog?”

He threw on a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and finally met Brian’s eyes with his own sad, desperate ones. “J-John and I were going to take a shower together, and… everything was fine until…” he trailed off and the older man looked at him expectantly, taking a step forward.

“Until what? What happened?”

The drummer swallowed hard and took the cigarette out from between his lips and held it between his fingers instead. He looked down as he scratched his chin. “H-He started to… you know, soap me up and… at first it was fine, but then… something happened, and I felt so… so _fucking_ terrified.”

Brian gave him a sympathetic look, his lips curved in a frown. “John wouldn’t hurt you, Roger. He’d never touch you like James did, you know that, right?”

Roger nodded. “I know! I do… but… it’s just my fucking broken brain!” He let out a half whimper, half pathetic laughter at himself. “I can’t d-do anything right. I know he wouldn’t hurt me but my head flips some kind of bloody switch and then suddenly, I believe that that’s what he could do and I can’t unthink it!”

Brian reached out and gently pulled Roger’s shirt down so it wasn’t bunched up. He took the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag before he put it out in a nearby ashtray. He took Roger’s hand delicately into his own and kissed his palm before he led him back into the bathroom. At first the drummer was confused but then saw Brian take out the gauze and antiseptic cream and realized what he was going to do, causing him to relax again.

Brian waited until Roger sat down on the closed toilet seat before he spoke again, closing the bathroom door and locking it so they wouldn’t be interrupted. “What’s happening to you is perfectly normal, Roger.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, of course. After going through a traumatic experience, even the slightest touch from someone else or something that’s said can put you back in that state of mind. It’s normal for that to happen, albeit a bit isolating. It might happen to you for a while, Rog. Not enough time has passed since your rape, and that’s what you need to let yourself have… time.”

Roger was suddenly reminded of how Ollie had told him something similar earlier this morning. He watched as Brian finished bandaging his hand up again. “Deaky thinks I’m scared of him now,” he whispered. “I fucked up, Bri.”

The guitarist still held Roger’s hands in his own, kissing his fingers softly. “I’m sure he understands that you know he’d never hurt you. I’m sure he’s not mad at you or anything. He understands what you went through, love. He’s still going to support and help you through this, just like the rest of us. He’s not going to judge you because you had a post-traumatic episode.”

“You sound like you know a lot about this sort of thing…”

Brian gave a small smile and shrugged. “I did some research a while back, before you were attacked. It still applies though what you’re going through… I’m sure Ollie’s told you about it before too, post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s going to be a long road, but we’re all here for you. We’re not going anywhere, yeah?”

Roger gave a small smile and nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Brian smiled brighter. “Can I kiss you?”

Roger felt his heart swell at the question of consent and nodded. “Yeah, please do,” he chuckled.

Brian also chuckled and leaned in slowly, kissing Roger’s lips and lingered for several moments before he pulled back. “Thank you. I feel like I haven’t done that in a long time. I missed it.”

“Me too. I’m sorry…”

“Rog, you never have to apologize to me. I know what you’re going through, and I can see it every day. It's like you’re fighting a war no one else can see.”

“It sure as hell feels like I am,” the drummer sighed.

Brian placed his hands on either side of Roger’s face lovingly. “You have to keep fighting from the inside, and never give up fighting. You have to take it one hour at a time, and let yourself slip up from time to time, but always get back up again. You’re strong, Roger… you’re so fucking strong, and I’m so fucking proud of you, and I know I don’t say that to you enough.”

Roger felt himself blushing at first but then felt himself grinning from ear to ear, and then finally felt tears of happiness running down his cheeks. He sniffed, feeling silly. He let out a shaky breath as he wiped his face with his sleeve. “T-Thank you, Brian.”

“Of course, love. I’m not just saying all of that either, you know. I really mean it.”

Roger nodded, searching the older man’s eyes and seeing the genuine pride and love in them, and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. “I-I know.”

Brian kissed his forehead. “Good. Now come on, we got a whole bunch of different options for dinner. You can just take what you feel like eating and then we can go to bed. Sound good?”

“T-That sounds great, actually.” Roger pulled himself together and then stood up with Brian, letting the latter man lead them to the kitchen where they were greeted by everyone as if they had been gone for years instead of just a few minutes.

As Roger dished up his plate and listened to the music that Freddie had put on while they ate, he caught a look at John who smiled lovingly at him, no sign of hurt in his eyes anymore. The blonde smiled back at him and started to eat, surrounded by the ones he loved the most, and felt hope once again.


	30. accidents will happen

**.     .     .**

Over the next few days, Roger started to gradually heal, at least physically. The bruises on his hands slowly began to fade, and he felt like he had more movement in his hands as well. The only thing that wasn’t healing as fast as he wanted it to was his mind.

He still felt like he was lost in the woods without a torch to guide him.

He kept himself locked in his room most of the time. There were a couple hours of each day, however, when Brian and John made him join them in the living room to watch television and drink some tea together. He knew that both of his boyfriends were overly concerned for him when they both kept sneaking glances over at Roger to make sure he was okay.

He knew they only had his best interest at heart, but the drummer found it more annoying than anything. Roger thought about running away, but he already knew that wasn’t an option. If he ran away without a word or note, he could kiss drumming with his best mates goodbye forever. He could attempt suicide again but automatically, his brain shot that idea down as well; he didn’t want to be without Brian or John, and there was a chance that he might fuck it up and survive that attempt as well. If he wanted to be with his boyfriends, and continue drumming with all of them, then he’d have to stay, and stay alive.

“Rog? Rog, are you still with us, darling?”

The blonde glanced over at Freddie who was looking at him expectantly and simply nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed that he hadn’t been listening to any of them, lost in his own morbid thoughts.

“Roger, are you feeling all right, love?” Brian asked gently.

_There it was again…_

_The concern. The worry._

Roger nodded again. “Y-Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just tired still.”   _Shit. He should have known better than to say that._

John leaned closer to him and placed his cool hand against his forehead before looking at Brian and shrugging. “He doesn’t feel feverish to me.”

Roger weakly slapped the younger man’s hand away from him before he could stop himself. He didn’t look over to see the hurt on his face. “Stop it, John. Just… stop, please. I’m fine. Everyone just… leave me alone, yeah?”

He glanced over in time to see disappointment laced in Brian’s eyes as he shook his head and stood up but didn’t go anywhere.

“We’re just trying to help,” he attempted to explain.

Roger sighed heavily before he reached up and scratched his brow distractedly. “I know, but I really don’t need it. Anyway, no one can help me right now, so… leave it alone.”

“Rog, dear, we understand you’re having a rough go at it right now, but that’s no reason to be an absolute dickhead to any of us. We care very deeply about you.”

“Well, just stop! Stop caring about me!” Roger hit the couch in frustration.

“That’s it,” Brian sighed, walking over to the drummer and stood in front of him before motioning upwards with his hands. “Get up, Rog. We’re going for a drive. You need some fresh air, so come on, get up.”

“I’m fine right here, thanks.”

Brian grimaced and then gently placed his hands on Roger’s before forcing him up on his feet. “This isn’t up for debate, love. Come on. Go wait for me in the car.”

Roger was angry at himself for letting Brian order him around like this, but a part of him was actually looking forward to getting the fresh air. He hadn’t left the flat since the run-in with James. He grabbed his jacket and grabbed his cigarettes before walking out of the house and hopping into Brian’s van.

“Do you want us to come along as well, darling?”

Brian shook his head. “No, thanks, Fred,” he glanced over at John. “I think it’s best if it’s just Roger and I for now. Do you mind, John?”

The bassist bit his lip but shook his head. “No, t-that’s fine. Just… try and bring him back in one piece.”

It was a half-joke, but Brian nodded, trying not to let his frustration at Roger blow up at John. He gave the younger man a tight smile before he walked out to the van where Roger was half sitting, half laying, looking bored.

He started it up but didn’t take it out of park before he turned to look at Roger. “What’s going on you with you, Rog?”

The drummer scoffed before laughing humorlessly. “Are you joking? Where should I start, Bri? Do you want to start with my fucking father roughing me up and down or Liam gay bashing me? Or how about my… my rape? Should we talk about that?”

Brian’s face softened now, and he turned his whole body to look at the blonde. “Do you want to, Roger? Talk about it?”

“No,” Roger sighed, rubbing his hands on his legs. “Just… take me wherever you’re going to take me. I don’t want to talk about anything.”

Brian sighed as well and then turned back to the wheel and pulled out of the driveway before he started driving towards the park. Neither man said a word until Brian shut the engine off and stared at the green grass and park benches that were scattered around. It was strangely empty, but he was grateful for it.

He grabbed the small, portable FM radio he head in his glovebox and then grabbed a large blanket from off the seat in the back before he opened the passenger side door for Roger. “Come on, then. We’re here.”

“Here, the park? What are we doing here?”

“Bringing you back down to earth, love,” Brian spoke softly, closing the door behind him once Roger was out of the van. He motioned with his head to follow him and he walked to an open clearing near a tree but in a spoke where the sun still shone brightly and fully on the ground.

Brian balanced the radio in the crook of his arm that was also holding the blanket and gently took Roger’s hand with his free one before leading him over to the sunny patch of grass. He relaxed a bit when he felt the drummer gently squeeze it welcomingly, and then the guitarist spread the blanket out on the ground.

He tuned the radio to a 60s and 70s rock station and set it on the ground as well before looking over at Roger to gauge his reaction.

The drummer was smirking slightly. “You brought me here on what, a date?”

Brian chuckled softly and shrugged, taking his and lightly pulling him down onto the blanket. Roger seemed to give in and let himself be pulled down by Brian.

“I want to make you see how wonderful life can be if you give it a chance,” the older man confessed, putting his arm around Roger’s neck as he lay on his back with him. “Just lie here with me for a little bit, and we can forget everything else.”

“Aren’t you worried about someone seeing us?” Roger asked, glancing over at him, worry tinged his eyes.

“Are _you_?”

Roger bit his lip anxiously and shrugged against Brian’s arm before he examined the empty park. “Maybe. You know we’re not exactly…legal.”

“The only reason we’re not legal is because we’re two adult men who love each other. It would be completely different if we weren’t the same sex. Since when do you care about legality, Rog? You’ve never been the one to care about the rules anyway.”

Roger chuckled softly and shrugged again. “I guess not. I just don’t care to be arrested just because I love you and Deaky. It’s mad there’s even a law against it.”

“I agree, love,” Brian held Roger close momentarily long enough to kiss his head and then released him again so the drummer could be comfortable.

Roger closed his eyes and listened to the music nearby, trying not to think about the anxiety that had been edging in his chest all week, or the random thoughts of James in his head that popped up whenever he was alone in the bath or shower.

The two men listened to Robert Plant’s voice on the portable radio as they cuddled together, both men unable to help but occasionally glance up and make sure they weren’t being stared at by anyone. Roger laced his fingers with Brian’s, who welcomed the gesture.

After almost twenty minutes of just embracing each other, Brian decided to start talking, for better or worse.

“Talk to me, Rog,” he whispered. “Please… talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Roger fought the urge to run off but let himself sigh quietly. He felt Brian’s eyes on him as he did so but ignored it. He knew no good would come from them arguing about anything so he took a deep breath instead, gently caressing the other man’s fingers with his own to calm himself.

“I just… want to fucking kill James,” he whispered back, not trusting his voice. “I hate that prick. I don’t want to ever have to see him again. I want him to… leave me the hell alone, you know?”

Brian didn’t take his eyes off the younger man. “That’s a completely normal desire, Roger. He hurt you, in the worst way. Trust me when I say that we all want him dead right now for what he did to you.”

Roger was quiet for a little bit before he looked away suddenly. “I d-don’t know what to do with these feelings inside me though, Bri. I j-just… want to throw myself off a bridge because I feel like it’s the only way I’ll finally forget about everything that happened. I-I fucking hate this. I fucking hate _him_. I fucking… h-hate myself.”

The words broke Brian’s heart as he listened to him talk like this. He turned onto his side now and searched Roger’s face.

“Why do you say that, love? Why do you hate yourself? What happened wasn’t your fault, at all.”

Roger shook his head, not believing the guitarist. He forced himself to look back at him and now Brian could see tears in his eyes. “It was, though. I got shitfaced, and I wasn’t paying attention. I just… fucking _let_ that fucking wanker drug me. I just let it fucking happen.”

Brian sat up and placed his hands on either side of Roger’s face. “Rog, accidents happen. No one expects their drink to be drugged. No one ever expects to be raped. You may have been shitfaced, but your rape was _not_ your fault. It was that bastard’s fault. _He’s_ to blame. No one blames you, except yourself.”

Roger heard the words, but he still felt skeptical. He sat up as well now and looked away, his shoulders suddenly trembling. Brian felt his chest ache when he saw tears running down his cheeks and took Roger into his body, holding him close.

“Is this why you’ve been the way you’ve been? Because you’re angry at yourself and feel guilty for what happened?” Roger hiccupped but nodded into Brian’s chest.

The older man held him closer, gently caressing his back soothingly, but unsure what else to say that would make this better. He kissed Roger’s jawline lightly and then took his face in his hands after several minutes letting him cry.

“It’s going to be okay. Don’t let that bastard get you down. If you… end your life, then he wins. The bravest thing you can do right now is continue living, especially when you don’t want to,” Brian said softly.

Roger wiped his face as he nodded, taking in his words and feeling his heart swelling with love. He ran his fingers through his hair and then took a shaky breath before he leaned in and kissed Brian’s lips, which caused the other man to smile brightly mid-kiss, not having really expected it.

Roger playfully pulled Brian back down onto the blanket and put his head on Brian’s chest, resting his arm on his waist, sniffling quietly. “What if I see him again, Brian?”

He didn’t know what he was going to do the next time he saw him, but Roger felt torn between killing him and keeping away from him. Of course, he would never _really_ kill James, he didn’t think.

“If you see him, and none of us are with you, then just stay the hell out of his way and try and not to let him see you. Come back home or if you can’t do that, then try and call home. One of us will pick up and come and get you,” Brian promised.

Roger felt a little better. He hadn’t had a plan before, but hearing one come from Brian made him feel better. “Thanks, Bri.”

“It’s what I’m here for, love.”

They stay lying together, letting the sun shine on them for almost two more hours before it started to cloud up a bit.

Brian sighed contently and saw a couple more people rolling in. He casually unhooked himself from Roger and stood up. “Come on. Let’s go get some lunch, yeah? How does that sound?” He helped the drummer to his feet.

“Yeah, all right.”

Brian grabbed the blanket. “Can you grab the radio, Rog?”

He nodded and grabbed the radio before he chuckled. “That’d be a good name for me if I ever became a radio personality. ‘Radio Rog.’ What do you think? Catchy, isn’t it?”

Brian laughed now and shook his head as they walked back towards the van. “Like an STD. Come on, Radio Rog… hop back in before it starts to pour.”

Once they were both in and settled, Brian started driving to the café down the street from their flat. Just as the older man predicted, it started to rain heavily.

“Why can’t we go to the pub for a pint instead?”

Brian glanced over at him. “Because I know you. You don’t want to go to drink. You want to go so you can smoke inside there and you know you can’t smoke inside the café…”

Roger groaned dramatically. “I’d rather not smoke in the rain. I’d like to drink when I smoke!”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the pub, Rog,” he spoke, not unkindly. The blonde sat upright in the seat and looked down at his hands, apparently also knowing he was right. “We’ll be quick. We’ll grab something to eat and get a cuppa and then we head back home.”

Roger nodded but didn’t want Brian to get into an accident looking back over at him again. “All right, no problem.”

“Good. You can smoke on the way home.”

Roger gave a hum of agreement and waited until Brian parked in the parking lot of the café before he got out and then ran to the door to avoid getting soaked. He opened the door and waited for Brian who was also hurrying to get inside.

“All right, I’ll go get us lunch. Can you find us a table?”

“Yeah, sure.” Roger walked over to a table by the window that looked semi-private and sat down. He felt an uneasiness being so out in the open. He half expected to look over and see James walk by. The thought made panic start to dig its way into his stomach, but he took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. He inhaled again and let it out slowly, trying not to look too obvious.

He probably looked like a mental case for sure, though.

He sat back in his chair and then watched the rain pour outside, making it nearly impossible to see anything out there.

 _Good_.

That meant no one could see in at him either.

“I’m back,” Brian announced, setting two plates of pastries down on the table before skillfully placing two cups of tea on there as well. His face suddenly fell. “Everything all right?”

Roger nodded, his breathing coming back again normally. “Yeah, fine. Cheers,” he thanked him, taking a sip of tea. “How much do I owe you for lunch?”

Brian gave him a soft look before shaking his head. “Nothing. We’re together now. I’m more than happy to pay for your lunch, and breakfast, and dinner.”

“I could pay,” Roger said, playfully bitter. “I’ve got some money too.”

Brian sat down and smiled at him lovingly. “I know you can, Rog. It’s really okay. If you really want, you can pay for it next time. I didn’t mean to steal your thunder, love.”

“I know,” Roger smirked. “Just taking the piss.”

Brian rolled his eyes and started to eat his pastry. “So how are you liking our date day so far?” He whispered softly so no one around would hear.

Roger smiled. “It’s great, Bri.”

The other man smiled back and then sipped his own tea. They chatted and ate until they were full and then hurried back to the van again to make for home. Once they made it inside, a wave of heat hit them like a brick wall.

“Shit… it’s fucking hot in here,” Roger complained. “What’s the thermostat at?”

Freddie came in with a wifebeater on and shorts. “It’s at fucking thirty two degrees Celsius. It’s absolutely boiling in here!”

“I’m trying to fix it, Freddie,” John sighed. He was kneeling in front of it with the top part off as he fiddled with it. “I’m hot too.”

Roger ripped his jacket off and then moved over to where John was.

Brian walked over to Freddie. “We were gone for a few hours and you two managed to break the thermostat in that time?”

“Freddie broke it, actually,” John replied deadpan from several feet away.

Brian and Roger both turned and looked at Freddie who was now looking a bit embarrassed, waiting for an explanation.

“I apologize, darlings. I was sweltering and I was attempting to make it a bit cooler in here and it just… broke. Everything in this flat has to be over fifty years old, at least! It’s not my fault that something old broke,” Freddie shrugged.

Brian sighed but didn’t say anything as he looked over at Roger and John as they both tried to fix it together. He looked back over at Freddie who was starting to put more clothes on and fix himself up a little bit, a telltale sign that he was going somewhere.

He raised an eyebrow. “Where you off to, then, Fred?”

“Hm?” the singer hummed. “Oh, I’ve got a date with someone this afternoon. Well, not exactly a _date_ … but it’s more of a… thing,” he answered awkwardly.

“Oh, a thing?” Roger interjected himself into the conversation. “I used to have a lot of… things. Don’t forget to use protection, Freddie!”

The other man rolled his eyes but grabbed his jacket and put on his shoes before he hurried out the door, leaving the three men alone now.

“That’s just like Freddie to break something and run,” John laughed to himself, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, gentlemen. I’ll get this fixed shortly.”

“Sooner rather than later, if you please. I don’t care to die in this flat anytime soon,” Roger half-joked.

Brian walked over to John and gently rubbed his shoulder in a friendly manner. “I know you’ll get it fixed, John. Take your time. I’m going to go take a cold shower. Be out in a bit and then I’ll make us all some tea.”

He kissed Roger’s temple softly before he left the room as well. The drummer smiled to himself and then sat on the floor as the younger man worked skillfully. He smirked to himself. “Have you fixed a lot of thermostats, Deaky?”

The bassist chuckled. “Enough of them, I think. They’re pretty basic. How did you get stuff fixed when you were living with your father?”

Roger’s smile faded now and he shrugged. “I usually tried to fix it myself or hired a repairman to fix it when my father wasn’t there. Could’ve used you back then to help fix things…”

“Sorry,” John apologized softly. “I wish I could’ve helped you back then too. Did you and Brian have a nice outing earlier? Where’d you two pop off to?”

Roger smiled to himself as he thought about their little date and remembered the feeling of his arms around him. He had felt so protected, so safe. He felt like nothing and no one could’ve ever hurt them. “Yeah, it was nice. We hung out in the park for a couple hours, and then we had lunch down the street. What did you and Fred do? Or… actually, on second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.”

John laughed to himself and popped the front of the thermostat back in before he turned it on, and felt cool air filling the flat. “Much better. Well,” he said, turning back to him. “Before he broke that, we were watching some telly for a while, smoked, and then he was saying how he had a date today.”

Roger searched John’s face to gauge an emotion. “And you’re all right with him going off like that?”

“Yeah, as long as they use protection. In case you haven’t noticed, Roger, we’re in an open relationship,” John smirked playfully.

Roger lightly punched his arm, almost a tap really. “I’ve noticed, smart-arse.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if you actually did, because you know, with you being with both myself and Brian, and then me being with Fred…” John trailed on, obviously trying to antagonize Roger in the most playful way, of course.

The younger man laughed and then before they knew it, they were both roughhousing on the floor. Roger was trying to pull his fingers back while John was punching his leg.

“Oi! Don’t hurt the bassist! I need those fingers!” He laughed, continuing to punch his leg, a little harder now.

“Hey! Like I don’t need my legs?”

“Ow! _Shit!_ Roger, stop! Seriously… I think my fingers are fucking broken!”

This made the drummer stop now and look down at John who was holding two of this fingers oddly. He suddenly felt sick with himself and took a step back. “Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck… Jesus, Deaky, I’m so sorry!”

John grimaced in pain as he stood up now and sighed shakily, his face paling and looking like he was going to be sick as well. He swallowed hard and looked at Roger. “I know, Rog. It’s okay… j-just… get Brian. We’re going to have to go to the hospital.”

“W-Wait… wait. I-I can fix this! I learned this in uni… I can fix it!”

John let out a deep breath. “You might be able to, Rog, but I would really feel better if we just went to the hospital. Now… please get Brian.”


	31. fratured

**.     .    .**

“Don’t worry, love. John will be all right.”

Roger nodded for the tenth time that Brian had tried to comfort him in forty minutes. He knew that the guitarist was only trying to help him, but a part of him just wanted to hide in a closet and not come out, ever again. He was itching for a cigarette, but he wanted to be here when John came back out. Freddie had also insisted on being here for John, which was understandable, but the singer proved to be a bit frustrated at Roger.

“So… let me get this straight, Roger,” Freddie turned to him. “You two thought it would be appropriate to rough house?”

Roger felt guilt rising up inside of him like bile. “We were… flirting. Well, I mean… I-I was trying to, and… a-and I didn’t even mean to hurt him! I just…” He sighed, his thoughts running a mile a minute as he attempted to explain but then Freddie interrupted him.

“ _Flirting_? My dear, if breaking is fingers was flirting, I’d hate to see what making love would be!”

“Gentlemen,” Brian cleared his throat now. “Let’s not focus on what caused this. Roger had good intentions and John’s accident was just that, an accident. Let’s not place blame anywhere when John needs us right now, yes?”

Roger leaned against Brian’s body, feeling grateful for his intervention even though he had been the one who had been questioning about the situation minutes earlier. Freddie gave an apologetic nod and leaned back in his seat. They sat and waited for about twenty more minutes before they saw John come back out with his fingers taped together and a doctor by his side.

“Would you all be John’s family, then?” The doctor asked a bit skeptically, eyeing all of the band members.

Brian cleared his throat and stood up, giving the doctor a friendly enough smile. “Yes, we are. Can you tell us what happened?”

The doctor glanced down at his charts before he glanced behind Brian at Roger and Freddie before looking back at Brian. “It’s a stable fracture. Household painkillers should help with pain and inflammation, but keep those fingers taped up for at least two months so they can heal. If there’s still pain, it might be more serious than we initially thought and we’ll have to possibly do surgery, but… they should heal by themselves.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Brian nodded and started to lead all of them out of the hospital.

Roger trailed behind Brian, feeling too guilty and unworthy to walk beside John; Freddie was doting over the bassist anyway and seemed to forget that the drummer was even there with them. He wouldn’t blame any of them if they were mad at him, of course. He basically screwed up any chance they had of performing gigs for the next two months.

It was a quiet ride back to the flat where Freddie disappeared into his bedroom with John. Roger sat down on the couch, and watched as Brian put the radio on before doing the same, wrapping an arm around him and pulling the blonde into him close.

The drummer let his body sink against the older man, welcoming the affection. “I’m so sorry, Bri.”

“I know you are, love,” he spoke softly, kissing the top of his head. “Don’t worry… John’s going to heal, and he’ll be good as new again. He knows that you didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“I’m sorry for that too, but… that wasn’t why I’m sorry right now.”

Brian gently made Roger look up at him, meeting his eyes. “Why are you sorry now, then?”

“Because now we can’t do any gigs until he’s better,” Roger answered guilty. “It’s my fault that we’ll lose money. Those shows help us with rent and groceries.”

Brian hugged him close again and breathed him in. “We’ll be okay, Rog. I promise… we’ll make do, we always do.”

“What about Fred? He’s going to kill me, Bri.”

Brian sighed contently against Roger, gently caressing his arm. “Don’t worry about Fred… he’ll forgive you, and if he gives you any more shit, just tell me and I’ll tell him to lay off of you, yeah?” Roger nodded against him and he simply held him close. “This isn’t the worst thing we’ve been through, love,” Brian whispered.

“I know,” Roger whispered back, thinking back to his suicide attempt and how scared Brian had been. He tried not to let the guilt fill him back up again, forcing himself to push it down.

They stayed like that until the night, but when Brian was ready to go to bed, he saw that Roger had already fallen asleep on him. The guitarist grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over the two of them before he helped Roger lay down in front of him, Brian being the bigger spoon, and held him close to him before falling asleep as well.

 

**………. … ……..**

The next morning, Roger woke up alone but felt too tired still to be properly bothered by this fact. He half sat up and saw Freddie making coffee in the kitchen and heard the shower running. He stood up and headed towards the kitchen to wait for the coffee to brew.

“How is he?”

Freddie looked at him with a tight smile. “John is doing well, darling. He’s still sleeping. I’m glad you’re up, Roger, dear… there’s something I’d like to run by you.”

Roger nodded, encouraging him to continue. “All right.”

“I love John, but… well, we’re rather tight on money at the moment. All we need is one gig and we could make the money last until John’s all better again. We could get a temporary bassist just for one show. What do you think, Rog?”

The taste of a temporary bassist made Roger sick as he thought about the only other bassist he knew. He shook his head. “No, we can’t replace him. If John can’t play, then we shouldn’t play at all, Freddie.”

“I understand that John cannot be replaced, darling. No one could _replace_ him. I just think we should play one show while he’s recovering, so we’re not in danger of being thrown out into the street! That’s all I’m saying!”

Panic at the thought of being homeless made Roger’s heart start to race and his chest tighten. “W-Well, maybe you should s-stop saying it! We’re not going to do it!”

“Do what?”

Roger glanced over and saw Brian with just his jeans on, and shirtless as remnants of his shower rested on his pale skin on his shoulders. He glanced over at Roger and tensed, seeing the panic on his face before looking back at Freddie expectantly.

“I just suggested that we play one show, with a temporary bassist –ʺ

“No,” Brian said automatically. “Out of the question, Fred.”

The singer looked exhausted at the two men, but Roger felt relieved. Freddie looked at the guitarist. “In case you haven’t noticed, darling, we’re _awfully_ low on money at the moment. We have to pay our rent in two weeks, and we need more groceries. What do you suggest we do for money? We simply cannot afford either.”

Brian shook his head. “We’ll make it through this, Fred. It’s just a rough patch for us, yeah? We’re not getting a temporary bassist, and that’s final.”

Freddie scoffed and exhaled heavily through his nose. “I think you’re making a mistake, but I know you’ll come around soon enough when we’re stuck eating out of cans.” He made up two cups of coffee before disappearing back into his room with John.

Roger bit his lip hard, but Brian’s words snapped him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” he said gently. “We’ll get by, Rog. Don’t let him make you panic, love. He’s just worried about John.”

“For Christ’s sake, Bri, it’s just a broken finger. It’s not like I bloody broke John’s whole arm or his neck or something…”

“I know,” Brian nodded in agreement, pouring two cups of coffee for himself and Roger now. “But listen to yourself right now; you’re only angry at Freddie because you’re worried too, just for a different reason. You’re worried about being thrown out into the street, which we won’t be.”

Roger nodded and tried to calm himself. Would Freddie really go behind Brian and his back and look for a new bassist? Had he already discussed this with John? He searched Brian’s eyes before taking his coffee from him and sitting down on the sofa again with him, the telly on in the background.

“Freddie’s really adamant about this gig. I can’t believe he’d even consider playing without John!”

Brian took a sip of his coffee. “People say crazy things when they’re upset, Rog. You know that better than anyone. He won’t book anything… he’s just upset about what happened. He’ll get over things soon.”

He laced his hand with Roger’s free one and gently thumbed his skin. The drummer took a deep breath, trying to relax. The two of them sipped and talk for a few hours before John came out. Roger glanced over and sat up eagerly, eying the bassist curiously.

“Can I do anything for you, Deaky?” Roger asked. “Do you want me to make you anything to eat, or run you a bath?”

John placed his cup in the sink gingerly with his good hand before he started walking back to his room, but not before smiling softly at Roger. “No thanks, Rog. I appreciate the offer, but I’m all right. Just enjoy your time with Brian.”

Roger nodded and watched as John disappeared again. He looked back at Brian who smiled at him. “See, he’s not mad at you.”

“Why does Fred have to be, then?”

Brian shrugged. “Because he’s worried about someone he loves. I’d probably be the same way if it were you with the broken finger.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Roger suddenly chuckled. “You’re the adult; you wouldn’t be upset at anyone.”

Brian also chuckled now and then wrapped an arm around Brian gently. “You mean because I’m old. Old people don’t have time to hold grudges.”

“Nuh-uh. I just mean because you’re the responsible, mature one.”

The guitarist smirked and shook his head playfully and finished his coffee. They chatted and played games for a few more hours into the evening when Freddie came out with John with a serious look upon their faces.

“There’s something we’d like to discuss with you,” Freddie announced.

Roger finished putting the pieces of the board away and then sat upright, looking at both men, but it was Brian who spoke first.

“If this is about the gig again –ʺ

John cleared his throat, indicating that he wanted to speak. “I’m fine with it, more than fine, actually. I’d rather you temporary replace me for it. Freddie’s right – we could do with the money. I actually know a friend who I played bass with before uni. We can use him for one night.”

Brian still wasn’t having any of it. “No, I don’t care if you know someone or not. I don’t want to do a gig without you, John. We have amazing band chemistry together. We can wait a couple months to play again as a band.”

“No, Brian, we can’t,” Freddie spoke now. “John even said he was all right with it, darling…”

The older man sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t care! I don’t care how okay he is with it! We don’t need the money right this second! It’s not happening!”

Freddie stepped forward; his jaw set in annoyance. “We may not need it right this _second_ , but we will need it within the next two weeks! By the time we get a gig scheduled, it’ll be close. You want to risk being homeless because you didn’t plan ahead, darling?”

Brian took a deep breath to calm himself and looked at Roger, who was now looking conflicted upon hearing that John was okay with being replaced for one night. He looked back at Freddie. “Just… all right. You find a bassist, and we’ll play, but just this one gig, and then we’re waiting until John’s better again before we play any more shows, yeah?”

“It’s a deal, darling,” Freddie smiled, seemingly satisfied with himself. “You promise that we’ll play once we find a bassist, though?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Brian nodded.

“Excellent!” Freddie clapped his hands together and turned to John. “Come on, dear. Let’s go back and rest.”

When the two men disappeared, Brian looked at Roger. “I’m sorry, Rog.”

He shook his head and smiled weakly. “I didn’t think John would be so all right with it, but… if he’s fine with it, then so am I.”

Brian gave him a gentle smile and pulled him into a hug. “Up for a game of Scrabble, love? Then bed?”

Roger smiled brightly now and pulled out the game, getting everything set up. He felt a bit relieved knowing that John was okay with the idea. He was afraid of the younger man feeling hurt by the suggesting of finding someone else to replace him for a show. They played one game, then a second one before either of them was ready to go to bed, but when they finally did, Roger slept more soundly than he had in a while.


	32. the return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope ya'll are staying safe and staying inside, even if you're starting to go a little crazy like me. Here's another chapter :)

**.  .   .**

They spent the next few days separated for the most part, Freddie with John, and Roger with Brian, both pairs of men sleeping in separate rooms again. The tension in the house hadn’t been too bad, but there was no use in denying that there wasn’t any tension at all.

Roger and Brian mostly played games, or watched telly, or played Scrabble until they fell asleep in each other’s arms with half cold cups of tea lying nearby.

Freddie and John both barely said two words to either of the men until the following day when the singer came into the bedroom.

“Wake up, lovelies!” Freddie sang the next morning as he gently shook Roger and Brian awake rather roughly. “We’re going to be meeting our new bassist in an hour and a half exactly, darlings!”

Roger groaned tiredly, and Brian joined him, but he got out of bed and rubbed his face. “Temporary bassist,” he corrected. “For one gig.”

“Yes, well, let’s not quibble over semantics, shall we? We’re all getting money from it. Now get up or else we’re going to be late meeting him!”

Roger rolled over and looked at Brian’s back after Freddie left them to get ready. “Is Deaky coming with?”

The older man shrugged and stood up, facing Roger. “Dunno, I assume so, since Freddie is coming with us. One of us should be around to help John if he needs it.”

“Who do you think this bloke is?” Roger reluctantly stood up and started to get dressed, stuffing his crumbled package of cigarettes into his pocket, along with his lighter.

“I’m not sure, Rog. I don’t know a lot of bassists. Do you?” Brian had a playful edge to his voice as he also got dressed.

“Just one,” the drummer lowered his voice, feeling his chest tighten uncomfortably at the thought of _him_. He finished getting dressed and fixed his hair before sighed. “He still hates me.”

“Who does?”

“Freddie,” Roger answered. “He’s passively aggressively hating me because I put hands on his boy toy.”

Brian pulled down his shirt over his stomach and gave Roger a disapproving look. “You didn’t ‘put hands’ on him, Roger. You both were consensually roughhousing together, and one of you got hurt. It could’ve easily been you who had the broken finger. Anyway, Freddie isn’t _actually_ mad at you. If he was truly upset, then he would make sure you knew it.”

“I guess,” the blonde shrugged.

“Come on, love. Let’s get going before he comes back in and nags us some more.” Brian led Roger out and didn’t see either Freddie or John, until he went outside and saw them both sitting in the van, Freddie on the floor so he could talk to John.

Brian got into the driver’s seat and turned the keys in the ignition. “Good thing I grabbed the keys; we wouldn’t get there otherwise. Speaking of ‘there,’ where exactly are we going to meet up with our new bassist?”

Roger got comfortable in the back but turned his body to face them so he could still be part of the conversation.

John looked over at Brian. “I called him yesterday and told him to meet us in the park. If he seems nice enough, then we’ll head back home and practice with him.”

Brian exchanged an uneasy look with Roger in the rearview mirror before looking back at the road again but glanced back over at John. “I trust you John, but it would be really nice if you and Freddie weren’t hidden away in your room, keeping things from us. Don’t get me wrong, I know you’re all right with this whole ‘bassist for a night’ thing, but we’re also going to be practicing with this bloke up until the big night of the show. It just would’ve been nice if you would’ve told us his name, for instance, where he lived, worked, went to uni, things like that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling,” Freddie rolled his eyes. “Everything will work out fine, I’m sure. Anyway, it’s not like this man will be living with us from now on or anything, dear.”

“Turn left up here,” John spoke in a tone that had an edge to it, something that surprised both Roger and Brian, who hadn’t ever heard the younger man speak in such a tone. “Freddie’s right, though… he’s not about to move in with us. We don’t need to know every single detail about his life. He’s just a substitute bassist that we’re going to practice with a few nights a week, and he’s a friend of mine, so that’s all you really need to know, yeah?”

Roger tensed, not really liking this whole situation. Meeting new people unnerved him as it was, but hearing John be so protective of this mystery man made him curious as well. Who was this man really to John? And why was Freddie perfectly okay with meeting up with him?

“I understand that, John,” Brian spoke with a slight edge to his own voice to match John’s. “But everything we do, we do as a band, as a family. Roger and I don’t know this guy, and Freddie neither for that matter. Don’t you think you should’ve told us _something_ about him?”

“I did,” John argued, his voice beginning to show frustration. “I told you he was a bassist and a friend of mine.”

“You know what I mean, John.”

It was a very quiet ride after Brian’s final word, and he parked the van before turning the engine off. He sighed, leaning back in his seat before looking around.

“He’s late,” Roger scoffed. “Not a very good example for someone who wants to do a show with us.”

John shot a glare at the drummer, much to both Freddie and Brian’s surprise.

“Come on,” Brian shrugged, trying to defuse everyone’s tension. “Let’s get out and wait. I’m tired of being in this van.”

Roger eagerly climbed out the back and joined Brian’s side, while John and Freddie both stood next to each other on the side of the former men. He couldn’t deny that his instincts were trying to tell him something was off right now, but he didn’t know what it was, and that made him even more nervous. He glanced at his watch, already annoyed, as he took out a cigarette and lit it.

“Five more minutes and I say we leave and find someone else.”

“Roger!” Freddie exclaimed in protest.

Brian looked over at him with a calm expression on his face, but appeared to be waiting for an explanation.

Roger just shrugged. “If he doesn’t give a shit, why should we?”

“You’re late all the time,” Freddie replied, “but we still wait for you. If we just left, darling, you might never find your way home.”

“Fred,” Brian spoke disapprovingly. “Everyone – just… relax, yeah? Take a breath.”

Roger took a drag of his cigarette, and then he saw their temporary bassist coming towards them. The sun was in his eyes so he squinted to try and make out the figure but couldn’t see him until the shape got closer, and then his jaw dropped, also dropping his cigarette on the ground.

He started coughing, his shock at recognizing the figure. Brian patted his back to help get the smoke out of his lungs and looked over to see why Roger had reacted so oddly.

“What a small world,” the man chuckled, smirking. “Didn’t think I’d get to see either of you two again.”

Roger’s blood froze and he walked over to John. “You know this arsehole, Deaky?” He pointed to Tim Staffell who was standing in front of them now, still tall and lanky, his hair still long.

“Roger!” Freddie scolded.

John looked conflicted; his brows knitted in confusion. “Yeah, of course I know him, Rog. He’s a friend of mine, remember? I told you! Do _you_ know him, Rog?”

Roger was torn between feeling utterly fucking terrified of this man, and wanting to tear Tim into pieces. He felt trapped somewhere in the middle, his heart racing in his chest before he looked back at John. “He used to be our former bassist, and singer. He’s why we needed you, Deaks.”

Brian looked baffled, like his head was about to explode from the sheer coincidence of the situation. He put himself in the middle between Roger and Tim, just in case one of them were to try and attack the other.

He faced Tim, but he was talking to his friends instead, seemingly staring the former bassist down. “We’re going to need to keep looking for someone else to play the gig, gentlemen.”

John hurried over to face Roger and Brian, frustration on his face. “Sorry, what the hell is going on here? Why can’t he play the gig? He’s one of my best mates, and he’s a great bassist…”

“He must not know what you are, then, Deaky,” Roger spoke, glaring darkly at Tim, who was looking between all the men before he cast a warning look at the drummer.

“Roger,” Brian turned to look at his boyfriend, shaking his head. “Don’t…”

Tim gave a chuckle now and looked over at John. “What’s he talking about John? What are you, exactly?”

John was looking almost angrily at Roger and Brian now before he shook his head in disbelief and looked at Tim. “I don’t know what they’re talking about, Tim. I don’t know what their problem is, but you’re in. It’s one gig, that’s it.”  

“I think we should all have a talk back at the flat,” Brian suggested, looking over at John. “There are things you don’t know, John. Before you make anything set in stone, let’s just talk, yeah?”

“No,” John shook his head, laughing humorlessly. “This is… madness, Brian. I don’t know what he did to either of you, but we need a bassist, and we need one now. The gig is coming up and we really need the money, so… whatever it is, swallow your pride. This doesn’t need a band decision! He’s in, that’s it. Come on, Tim. Freddie and I are going out for lunch. We’ll drop you off afterwards.”

Tim nodded. “That sounds great. Cheers, John,” he started walking towards Freddie and him and glanced over at Brian, giving both him and Roger a knowing look. “See you soon, mates.”

Roger felt sick to his stomach with hatred as he watched him go over to Freddie and John before the trio got into a cab and disappeared. “Fuck!” He yelled as soon as they were gone. “Damn it! Fuck!” He stormed to a nearby trash can and shoved it over before he kicked it hard.

Brian hurried over to him, firmly taking his arms to stop the younger man before he pulled him close into him. “Hey! Hey…it’s all right, Roger! It’s okay… we’ll figure something out. Come on, let’s head back home.”

Roger wanted to destroy more things, but he reluctantly let the guitarist pull him back towards the van. He wasn’t sure what the sharp ache in his chest was until Brian got him home and inside the flat. By that time, he felt his legs give out from under him and he sat down hard on the floor, hyperventilating as his lungs seemed to collapse inside of him.

Brian quickly closed the door and then knelt down in front of Roger and placed his hands on either side of his face. “Rog, you’re having a panic attack, but that’s all this is… just another attack. You’re going to get through this, all right? I promise you will. I’m right here with you.”

All the blonde could do was nod as he felt unknown tears running down his cheeks involuntarily. He struggled to get air in as he thought about how Tim was back.

_Tim was back, and he was going to be their bassist again. Tim was here, with them. He was going to have to deal with his homophobia all over again._

He was angry, and confused but he couldn’t voice anything right now because every time he tried to, and opened his mouth, a loud sob would choke him.

Brian ran his fingers through Roger’s hair, and gently made him look him in the eye. “You can get through this, love. Remember what you need to do right now, yeah? Breathe in, hold, breathe out. All right? I know you want to talk to me, but you need to calm down first.”

Roger nodded, knowing this even though he was feeling frustrated. He did as Brian instructed: he breathed in for seven seconds, held it for five, then he breathed out for seven seconds. He did this several times, gradually feeling his body begin to calm down.

He looked down at his trembling, numb hands, and then hugged himself with them. He pulled off his shirt, feeling too hot. Brian helped him get it over his head and threw it to the side before he looked at his boyfriend again, searching his face to get a sense of how he was.

He continued to stroke his hair. “Do you think you can talk now?”

Roger nodded and took another shaky breath. “H-How?” He began, shaking his head. “How could Tim not know about John or Freddie? I mean, if he knew, then he wouldn’t hang out with either of them, right? So… does Tim really not know about them?”

Brian sighed softly. “I’m not sure, Roger. Maybe… he doesn’t know about John, but I mean… you would think he’d be the type of person to assume about Freddie, right off the bat. Either, he’s trying to tone it down for John’s sake or he really doesn’t know.”

Roger refused to believe the latter option. He loved Freddie, but he didn’t exactly keep his sexuality a secret, nor was he afraid to talk about past lovers, or cocks, or sex in general. If Tim hadn’t known before, he had to know now.

“What about John, though? He didn’t even know about Tim! We never even said his name in front of either of them before. We’ve always just said, ‘our other bassist.’ What if John says something about Freddie being his boyfriend in front of him?”

Brian gave Roger a loving smile and moved closer to him before he wrapped an arm around him pulled him close. “Then Freddie will kick his arse. Fred won’t take any of Tim’s shit, especially his homophobic shit. They’ll be all right, love. I care for them but right now, you’re my only concern.”

Roger looked up at him, resting his face against Brian’s arm, feeling utterly exhausted from his earlier panic attack. He was still trying to get feeling back into his fingers and toes.

“Are we really going to let him back in, Bri?” He asked softly.

The innocence in his voice made the guitarist’s heart break, but he remembered their previous conversation with John and Fred. He kissed his hair and lingered there for several moments. He took a deep breath, knowing what the right answer was here, and knowing he shouldn’t let Tim anywhere near Roger after their last experience with him, but these were desperate times.

“He’s just going to be with the band for a week or so. He’s not going to live here with us, he has his own place now. He’s not going to go anywhere near you, as long as I’m around. After the gig, then he’s gone. We don’t have to see him again, and he won’t be welcome here, John’s friend or no. We really need the money from that gig, Rog. We need it for groceries, and rent, and petrol… they’re basic necessities and if we don’t have the money for rent, we’re all going to be out on the streets.”

Roger’s body tensed up as he listened to Brian. He chewed anxiously on his lower lip, but he knew that Brian was going to protect him, and he had their best interests at heart. He could get through this; he was just a week. They’d suffered with Tim for longer than that before.

“Are we going to tell John about him? I mean, we have to, right? They need to know, both of them.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, we’ll tell them. Being that Tim is a good mate of John’s, though, I’m not sure how well that’s going to take with them. We can try. We can warn John at least.”

Roger nodded, feeling satisfied at his answer. “I need a bath,” he whispered softly.

Brian knew what he meant by that; he usually wanted to sit down in cold water after a panic attack. He didn’t ask any questions and lifted Roger into his arms almost too easily, carrying him into the bathroom and starting the water, making sure it wasn’t too cold for the other man.

He helped him undress and held his hand to steady him firmly as he got into the tub and carefully sat down. He pulled the shower curtain halfway, to give him _some_ privacy before he grabbed a towel out for him and sat down nearby against the wall so he could still keep an eye on Roger.

The drummer thought he should be offended by Brian not trusting him alone, but to his own surprise, he wasn’t. He honestly didn’t know if he trusted himself right now, and after the morning they had, he wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to try and escape from Tim forever. He washed himself up before he lay back and looked at Brian, giving him a weak smile.

“Can I have a fag?”

“Yeah, of course.” Brian dug through the drummer’s jeans and got out his cigarette package before handing one to him and moved closer as he lit it for him. “There you are, love.”

“Cheers.”

Roger took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes against the back of the tub, and let the water relax him as he slowly regained feeling in his toes and fingers again.

“It’ll be okay, Rog,” Brian spoke softly, watching the other man smoke. “It’s temporary, yeah?”

Roger glanced over at the guitarist and smiled, nodding. “I know. I just didn’t think we’d have to see him again after we kicked him out of the band. What are the odds that he’d be John’s friend?”

Brian clenched his jaw and looked down at his lap. “Yeah, what _would_ be the odds of that?”

**Author's Note:**

> Liking this story? Subscribe so you can keep yourself informed when I update!


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